


This Isn't Everything You Are

by Macx



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Psychic Bond, Soulmates, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-16
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 44,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick is attacked and wounded by a creature, it's not to kill the Grimm but to draw out someone else. Renard can't let anyone kill his Grimm, because Nick is very important to him. More than anyone could guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is based on this prompt: Renard never cared much about anything else other than keeping his city and its people safe, but he seemed to make an exception for Nick. The problem: he doesn't find it a problem.
> 
> The regnant is based on his first appearance in Drifting in Shadows, Waiting for the Storm
> 
> Title shamelessly lifted from Snow Patrol

Chasing unknown creatures all over town wasn’t one of Nick Burckhardt’s favorite past times, but a Grimm had to do what a Grimm had to do. This particular one was rather nasty, leaving a pile of bodies in its wake, and not even Monroe had been able to pinpoint just what it might be. Nick had hit the books, but a few glimpses of a distorted face, snarling and spitting at him, hadn’t been enough. There were too many of its like in the books.

So he had followed his instincts and the evidence, which had led him halfway across Portland already. Hank had been busy piecing together what they already had, sketching out a profile of their killer, who seemed to be after something in particular, but neither man had been able to figure it out.

Only when Nick had discovered that all the murdered people – some of which they couldn’t be sure were dead since they had just up and disappeared – were of the creature community had the Grimm in him taken this rather personal.

Someone was picking off creatures. And it wasn’t a Grimm.

Looking around what had been a warehouse once and now was nothing more than a dilapidated ruin, Nick let his senses adjust, let the Grimm take over. He had gotten a lot better at being a Grimm. He was falling in tune with this other side of him, with the power that resided inside him and which even Monroe respected immensely. There was this expression in the blutbad’s face whenever Nick turned more Grimm than cop, a mixture between fear and respect, and something else. It was something close to admiration, maybe even arousal, but definitely reflecting a thrill.

Hand resting on his gun, Nick surveyed the area.

Nothing moved.

Nothing was visible.

But he sensed something.

Walking toward the building, the Grimm was on high alert. While he was aware of the creature close by, he couldn’t sense anything else.

“Who are you?” he asked as he stopped and looked around again.

A low rumble could be heard. “This doesn’t concern you, Grimm.”

Nick’s mouth set into a thin line. “You’ve killed five people. It does concern me as an officer of the law!”

Another rumble. “It is outside your law.”

“I doubt it. Who are you? Why did you kill them?” he demanded.

The door to the warehouse creaked and Nick discovered it was open, moving slightly in the draft that came from the sea.

“To draw him out.”

Him. Not Nick. Not the Grimm. But who?

“Leave, Grimm. I’m actually doing you a favor. I’m doing the whole fucking world a favor!”

Nick frowned, not the least bit inclined to leave. “You killed five innocent people, two more have disappeared. I’m not about to turn around and leave. Who are you?”

“Your mistake.” The voice was suddenly very close and Nick whirled around, but there was no one. “I don’t hunt Grimms. I have to make an exception for you.”

“Flattered as I might be, you really don’t have to,” Nick replied, the flippancy barely masking his tension.

“You aren’t the enemy, Grimm. He is.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Something moved.

There was a chuckle.

Another movement in the shadows. Fast. Through the partially open door.

Nick wasn’t fast enough in turn to react and he was thrown through the warehouse doors and landed on the dusty, oily ground. Winded, he rolled around, trying to gain air for his lungs, stop the ringing in his head.

He grabbed his gun, standing on shaky legs, scanning the semi-dark interior.

“You really think you can stop me with that, Grimm?” the voice mocked. “You haven’t read your lore!”

“I’m not here as a Grimm!” Nick replied, voice firmer than he felt.

“You will always be a Grimm. Good for me he thinks you’re so fucking important that I can use you as bait!”

Nick’s mind raced. Who the hell was this creature talking about? Aside from Monroe, no one fit the bill. And his partner didn’t even know he was here, nor did Nick get any sense of connection between the murderer and Monroe.

This was… something different.

And the world around him exploded into bright orange flames and dark clouds of smoke. Nick felt himself lifted off his feet and flung away. He connected with something hard but pliable and the wind was knocked out of him again. He heard a loud ringing and shook his head. Dizzy, smoke drifting all around him, he groaned softly as he felt a twinge of pain from his left arm. He gritted his teeth and managed to get to his feet, though swaying badly.

A shadow moved through the smoke, eyes glowing bright orange.

“Yes, you might just be the one to draw him out, Grimm. Going by his past actions to protect you.”

What? he thought fuzzily. Who? Monroe?

A face pushed into his blurry sight; hideous and barely human. A sneer was plastered onto the scaly lips.

“No, not the blutbad. I’m not interested in him.”

So he had blurted that one out loud.

Long, scaly fingers wrapped around Nick’s neck, squeezing. He coughed, desperately clawing at the vice-like grip.

“Oh yes, he might just come for you.”

And then the Grimm was flung away and connected with the wall. Nick had one last thought of ‘What the fuck?’ and then darkness claimed him.

* * *

Being what he was, being born into a position of incredible power and a rather long life, had never been a problem for Renard. He had never wondered what it would be like to be different. He had never questioned the secrecy of his existence in the creature community, nor the unquestioning loyalty of such creatures as the hexenbiester. He accepted it.

His kind was rare and lived under different guises, barely revealing themselves to others of the same origin. Procreation was just as rare since their lifespans were so long. In all his time on this earth he had yet to meet another regnant he might find attractive to bear his offspring.

He had claimed a territory, though, and he had been in Portland and the vicinity for close to one hundred years. He didn’t try to rise above mid-level positions to keep from attracting too much attention from the human world, and he still missed Paris, his place of birth. He had very fond memories of it.

It could have been his to claim, but he had come to the new world. He had stayed. It might have been the best decision ever.

Regnants were one of the few creatures a Grimm couldn’t detect, even when they lost their cool, which was almost unheard of. His abilities were beyond what a Grimm could imagine, though there had been incidents in the past when it had happened, when the façade had slipped and the true nature had pushed through.

Thankfully only with companions.

Renard had never given his counterpart more than a fleeting thought. In Europe he had thought he might find him or her, but that had been a foolish dream. He had been young and still kind of idealistic. In America he hadn’t wasted a moment on it – until Nick Burckhardt.

The Grimm had come onto his radar immediately, strongly, and he had known. He had simply known and he had taken every measure to keep him safe.

His counterpart.

His equal.

A strong Grimm in the making.

Now some misguided creature with thoughts of grandeur had taken the young detective, using him as bait, and while Renard wanted to laugh at it, he didn’t. Nick’s life was no laughing matter. Nick’s life meant the death of the fool who had taken him.

He found him easily enough, despite the lack of a soul bond between them. Still lacking, soon there, he knew. The more time they spent around each other, with every waking moment the Grimm grew into his powers, things were interwoven more and more. Their lives would be inseparable, their souls entwined.

It was only a matter of time.

*

Renard ran a gentle caress over one pale cheek, taking in the lax features, the cuts covered in dried blood, the bruises that stood out starkly against the unharmed skin. Nick lay crumbled on the dirty concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse, like a puppet with cut strings, and there was the unmistakable scent of pain around him.

Anger bubbled through Renard.

The audacity! To harm someone under his protection!

It was rare for him to feel such strong emotions, such negativity. He had himself under such tight control, nothing came even close to make him lose control.

Until now.

Because of Nick.

Claws sprouted, oh so careful as they drew gentle lines over the fragile human skin.

The Grimm wasn’t moving. In a way Renard was thankful that Nick was still unconscious. It gave him the freedom to be what he truly was, to tear the enemy apart and make him pay for his crimes.

Of course the regnant had noticed the death of the five innocent creatures, none a predator, none dangerous, none aggressive or hostile or involved in anything illegal. They had been pawns in this game, chosen by the other to lure him out. But he was a regnant and he had lived long enough not to fall for the game. Only when the Grimm had become involved had he moved.

Maybe Nick was his weak spot.

He smiled, amused at the thought, looking at the pale man.

For the first time in a very long life he might have something like a weak spot. It was a curious feeling.

Actually, it was a good feeling, considering who had made him experience it.

Checking the Grimm’s pulse, the regnant reassured himself that the other wasn’t in the immediate danger of dying, though he would need medical help.

It had to wait.

He had a killer to deal with.

 

tbc!


	2. Chapter 2

Coming around was painful.

Very painful.

Nick’s head pounded, his mouth felt dry, his eyes refused to focus. His neck seemed to be one big bruise and swallowing was painful. The rest of his body refused to separate the pain signals, which made him one big bruise.

There was a roar, followed by a screech, and whatever lingering dizziness there had been evaporated immediately.

Instincts came online, flaring, pushing adrenaline through his system, and he finally managed to focus on his surroundings.

Warehouse.

Right.

Old, abandoned warehouse.

Explosion.

Some badass creature choking him into unconsciousness.

Another screech had him try to sit up and he suppressed a groan of pain. His ribs didn’t feel broken, more like one big bruise, and his arm ached. His gun was still there and Nick checked it with shaking fingers.

Loaded.

Good.

Trying to find out where the noise was coming from he pushed to his feet, stumbling, half-falling, part of his brain telling him that to go looking for this noise was a really, really bad idea. Especially in his condition.

He ignored it.

He fell against a metal support beam and his eyes widened as he discovered two creatures, apparently very busy trying to kill the other.

Nick cringed as something exploded, more light than sound, almost blinding him. Every molecule of his body felt the power displayed here. One of the creatures howled in pain and was suddenly thrown into the wall, crashing through it. The other turned to the Grimm and Nick stared.

Tall. Taller than him. Bipedal. Wing-like structures on its back. Leathery skin, shifting colors between dark copper, bronze and burnt gold, that looked like armor plates, a snout filled with fangs, and eyes the color of blackish orange that had no pupil.

The regnant.

He would recognize the creature anywhere. Monroe had verbally drawn him a picture and Nick had sketched it on paper, getting the affirmative from Monroe that this was what had told him to keep Nick safe.

Now it was here.

Fighting the creature killer.

Nick’s fingers closed weakly around his weapon as the draconic being approached, each step reflecting power. Shoulders firmly against his support, ignoring the flare of pain from his arm – as well as the multiple wounds all over his body – he pointed the gun at the regnant.

It got him a toothy smile. “Really, Nick?”

In a way, the regnant sounded like Monroe. And then it was in his face, vice-like grip on his wrist, pushing the hand with the weapon away. Nick suppressed a cry of pain as it jarred a million bruises and cuts.

“I’m not your enemy, Grimm. Neither is the seth.”

“Seth?” he stammered.

“The creature that killed the five innocents. Nasty little dogs who believe they are the top of the food chain. They like to call themselves gods.”

Nick felt his brain starting to fire up. “He was after you,” he whispered, all the pieces falling into place.

“Very good.”

“To lure you out. To this place.”

“Yes.”

“And you came. Why?”

The strange, burnt orange eyes reflected amusement and the rumble sounded like a soft chuckle. “Because of you, Nick. Only because of you.”

He froze, caught off guard. “What?”

Nostrils flared and Nick saw the large fangs up close and personal. “You are mine, Grimm. In my territory. My protectorate.”

Nick felt anger rise. “I don’t belong to you!” he spat. “Or anybody!”

For a moment he felt a flare of energy from deep within him, his abilities pushing pain and exhaustion aside, and the amused expression in the regnant’s eyes didn’t help calm him down. The Grimm was outraged by the proprietary claim, by someone owning what could never be owned. Nick was reeling from the fact that he responded so strongly, without conscious want.

Monroe had claimed him, had marked him, had called him ‘my Grimm’, and it hadn’t resulted in this fury. It had been warmer, softer, loving…

Now… the regnant. No sexual undertones, just the statement, the simple words, and they angered him.

From somewhere on the other side of the broken wall, snarls and grunts could be heard. The regnant looked even more amused.

“Your kind is good at keeping records of everyone and everything. Regnants never found their way into it. Did you ever wonder why?”

And then he pushed away, just in time to deflect the seth’s renewed attack.

Nick stared at the battle, eyes comically wide, mouth open, feeling too much and understanding too little.

A loud explosion left him half-deafened, ears ringing with the after-effects. He stumbled, trying to get out of the way, but it was hard not to be in the way anywhere at all.

And then the seth was coming right at him, bloody and bruised, with deep wounds, but very determined to take out the Grimm.

Claws flashed.

Nick was thrown to the ground and huge wings unfurled protectively, then the regnant tackled the seth and threw him off. Again the other came at him. The regnant jumped, performing a flawless somersault and landing gracefully several feet ahead in a crouch. He bared his fangs and growled loudly. It was a dog fight, pure and simple, and it was very single-minded in purpose: destroy the other.

Laying on the ground, dizzy and too weak to make it to his feet again, Nick curled up into an as small target as possible.

He had no idea what would happen if either side won. Well, if the seth won, the Grimm would die. If the regnant won… he had absolutely no idea.

Woozy, consciousness fading, he tried to hang on, but it was getting harder and harder. His body demanded rest, his mind was on overdrive, and very deep inside was a tiny spark of knowledge that should the regnant win, he would be safe.

Trust him, the voice whispered softly.

In a way he had to, because he couldn’t fight any longer.

*

Renard stood over the motionless form of the seth, feeling hardly any satisfaction, This man had come after him, hoping to gain standing in his own family pack after killing one of the most powerful and mystical figures of the creature community. Seths were doglike creatures, vicious and unrelenting, not even cousins to the blutbaden. They were their own breed and while a blutbad was more instinctual and had this endless problem with young women in red, the seths had a penchant for explosives and used them in homemade devices. Flashgrenades, small bombs, explosive packs, you name it.

As he had told Nick, they thought of themselves as gods. Predominantly living in the deserts, mostly around Africa, some saw themselves as born for higher purposes. Like this one. He had challenged a regnant, trying to push into his territory, taking what was his.

He had paid for it. With his life.

If he had run alone, there would be no vengeful pack. If he had been part of a pack, they would be well-advised to leave Portland; maybe even Oregon.

Or they would follow their misguided friend; they would pay, too.

Renard doubted that any of the five dead creatures, or the two still missing-presumed-dead, had even been aware of the regnant’s existence. Aside from the hexebiester, he never revealed who and what he was to anyone.

Well, except for the blutbad. Monroe knew, but he was very important. He was keeping the Grimm safe, just like the regnant was trying to. He was his Grimm’s bonded mate, which the regnant respected.

Discarding the body of the seth from his mind, Renard walked over to where Nick lay, curled up, unconscious. The protectiveness he always felt when he looking at the man surged forward again.

It was a curious feeling, one he had yet to seriously examine. It had made him to even more curious things. Like reveal himself. Like order the kill of Marie Kessler.

She had been dangerous to him. She had been out of control. And she had been dying on his territory of cancer. He had just helped it all along, under his terms, seeing to it that Nick Burckhardt became a Grimm.

Now the connection between them had strengthened, had him find the Grimm, bleeding and hurt, and fight a minor nuisance in form of a seth. While the creature had been powerful, Renard hadn’t slacked in the past years. He was a warrior and he easily used what was his innate power. Nothing could hold up long against a fully grown and experienced regnant, especially one who was fighting for his potential counterpart.

No, not potential.

Nick Burckhardt was his counterpart, his soul bonded.

The gray eyes of the Grimm blinked open as he approached. Blurry but filled with so much fight and will to live, the regnant felt thrilled just to look into them. He could see the soul of the Grimm reflected in them, felt it respond to his presence, felt it fill with echoes of need and desire that Nick probably couldn’t place right now, let alone interpret.

Mine, he thought.

He had finally found his Grimm and it was beautiful and breathtaking, even if the man in question was currently far from whole and healthy.

But he would be. Whole. Very soon.

The hard expression strengthened as the regnant approached and he had to smile at that. Nick would still fight him, even knowing he could only lose.

It was an attractive feature in a warrior, and Nick was one. Unlike his aunt, unlike so many who took to killing like others took to gardening. Nick hadn’t killed in cold blood so far, had always tried to find a solution that didn’t involve death, and it made him the perfect companion for a regnant.

Like it had once been.

This one sang to him on all levels. This one was only for him.

Like the Grimms and regnants so very long ago, before everything had declined. The reapers were to blame, with their single-minded hunt for the only humans who could see the creatures for what they really were, and it had destroyed the balance.

Renard’s parents had told him tales of the past, of the companionship, of the soul bonds. Neither had experienced it and for their loss they destroyed reapers where they found them. His great-grandmother, as stories went, had been one of the lucky ones. She had found a Grimm soul complementing hers. It had been a long and happy partnership.

Renard had met neither. It had been long before his time. For all their longevity, regnants were far from immortal. But he could retell those ancient stories of Catherine Renard who had grown in strength and power because of her companionship by heart.

Renard wasn’t after the power. He didn’t want to increase his standing. He knew what he was, who he was, and he had already staked a claim on Portland and the area. He was only seeking what he had missed for so long.

Nick might be the key to achieving a new way of handling creature community matters, a new balance, a peaceful co-existence.

For that he had to live.

“I am not your enemy, Grimm,” the regnant said calmly.

Nick’s expression said that he didn’t believe him. Renard wasn’t inclined to show his detective just who he was really dealing with; well, what his human façade was. The Grimm had been shown who he was.

He went down on one knee, carefully examining the injuries, drawing a wince and a suppressed groan from the other man. Renard let a hand rest lightly over the bruised ribs, close to the scar from almost six months ago when Nick had been shot.

Gray eyes looked at him, cold, challenging, the Grimm in charge. The smudges and bruises in the face only increased the harsh look.

“Not life-threatening, but painful,” the regnant finally said.

“Fuck off,” Nick whispered.

Renard smiled. “Hardly.” He removed his hand.

“Why are you still here?” Nick demanded.

“You have no idea who I am, do you, Grimm?”

“You’re the regnant who scared the shit out of Monroe, telling him to protect me.”

“Yes, I am. But do you know what we are?”

The Grimm was silent.

“As I feared. The Grimms never did keep much on us. Then again, we asked for that.”

The gray eyes, expressive and so alluring, widened. It was an endearing mimic he had noticed with his young detective already and while Nick still had a lot to learn, he was a born and bred cop. His instincts, Grimm-bred, helped him with cases, had let him become a really good police officer.

Renard gave in to the need to openly study a man who he could hardly give more than a look once or twice at work. He was his superior officer, his captain. As Grimm and regnant they were more equals than Nick would probably believe.

The old times… yes, he missed them.

A hand shot out, curling strongly around his wrist, keeping the regnant from rising. Sure, he could have twisted out of the hold, but he didn’t. Instead he felt the flare of recognition from within his soul, knowing that for the first time in his long life he had found his equal. Marie had been one of many, a Grimm who had strayed off the path and left devastation behind. He wouldn’t have wanted her to share his obligations, his position, his future. Companions were hard to find for regnants, especially if they were as attached to the old days as Renard was, wishing for a Grimm. No other creature or human could be so perfect for them; no one could ever achieve this level of intense connection. He had never opened himself to anyone before, aware that if he allowed a companion connection with an inferior soul, he would taint himself. He would weaken. He would simply die inside.

Nick was so different, he had already defied everything else believed about Grimms. Now his very essence sang out to the regnant, and he felt his own soul respond.

He was so heart-achingly perfect.

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

The gray eyes were wide, as if Nick was feeling it too, and he abruptly released Renard's wrist, a soft gasp escaping his dry lips.

"This is what we had before, Grimm. Regnants and Grimms, together. You were meant to be arbitrators, officers of the law, or peace, and only resort to killing if everything else failed. Just how you are, Nick Burckhardt."

"B-but…"

He smiled, leaning closer, everything that was him, the regnant, taking in the Grimm.

His Grimm.

Shared with a blutbad, but still his.

"It's why your kind never kept records. You were meant as companions from the human world. No other creature complemented us, no other human. Only you. Your aunt knew, but she couldn't leave her path. She was raised to kill. You weren't. She knew that. I felt it when you inherited your powers, my counterpart."

Nick's lips became a thin line and he tried to sit up. Renard watched him fight his weakened body, not helping. He knew his help wouldn't be accepted.

"I'm not your companion," Nick managed, anger in his voice.

"You're not my mate," Renard corrected him, taking in the pallor, the clear signs of exhaustion. Nick needed medical attention. "You have a mate."

The Grimm tensed. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"I wouldn't think of it. Your bond is different to him. But you are mine, too, Grimm. Our allegiance is different, without the need of physical bonding."

Again he reached out and this time he placed a clawed hand over Nick's heart. The other man inhaled sharply, feeling the same surge the regnant did. It was wonderful, intoxicating, like the man himself, and Renard knew, he knew, it was him.

"You feel it," he whispered. "You know it. It was meant to be."

"I can't…"

"Be who you are, Grimm. I expect nothing else of you." He leaned closer. "It won't stop the claiming, y'know. It will happen. My counterpart, my companion."

Anger radiated off the smaller man. Good, righteous anger. He felt it in his very soul and responded to it with softer, calmer emotions.

Nick blinked.

Renard smiled.

"You match me, Grimm."

"I have a partner!" Nick spat.

"I know. For your police work, for your Grimm work, for your life. I claim none of those positions. But as a regnant I claim your partnership."

"You can't force me!"

"I never would." He still had his hand on Nick's chest, felt the warm, reassuring beat of his heart, felt his very soul in his hands. "This is my city. My territory. Grimms aren't bound to any place. Or to anyone. As long as you stay within my boundaries, you are protected from the reapers."

The gray eyes widened.

"I laid my claim, Grimm. It would be foolish of them not to respect it or me."

With that he rose, wings opening slightly.

"A hexenbiest killed my aunt," Nick suddenly said, eyes hard. "Yours, right?"

"Marie Kessler was out of control. She killed to kill. I couldn't let her do this on my territory."

"You killed my aunt and you expect me to… work with you? Be partners?" he yelled, voice laced with anger and pain.

"She was dying already. It was hardly a life taken."

Fury blazed in those eyes.

Renard smiled coldly. "You know nothing of her, who she was. She wouldn't have let any of those you let live survive for long. Your blutbad mate would be dead, as would be the jagerbars and the reinigen. She made no difference. She killed. Grimms aren't murderers, Nick. They are arbitrators and profilers. Your difference lets you stand out, brings you loyalty."

"You killed her," Nick whispered, fighting to remain conscious.

"No, the cancer killed her. Being a Grimm killed her. And Marie killed herself because of what she did, who she had become." He leaned closer, drawn to the young Grimm now that the connection between them had become so apparent, so active, so enticing. "You are a protector. She wasn't."

Renard gave in to the need to touch, delighting in the feel of soft skin, soft hair, though the blood and grime and pain dulled the experience.

"I should kill you," Nick whispered, still not giving in to his body's need.

"You won't," the regnant answered knowingly. "Because you're starting to feel it, too."

Mine, he thought fondly. He had found his companion. His to protect.

Different from a mate, different from what the Grimm had with the blutbad, but essentially the same. Aside from the sexual component. He wouldn't mind, Renard thought. Nick was a very attractive man, but this wasn't about sexual gratification. He could have that with anyone.

This was a soul that was like his own, was meant to complement him.

"I care about you," he murmured.

More than he should, more than anything ever mattered to him.

It was why he had come.

It was why he had told the blutbad to keep an eye on the Grimm.

It was why his soul hummed and sang.

Nick finally let go of consciousness and Renard caught him, holding him close. He pushed back the shirt and regarded the mark left on Nick's skin by the blutbad. It was a permanent one, clearly stating the wolf's claim.

It didn't matter.

It never would, it never had.

"You're mine, Nick Burckhardt," he murmured, shifting back into his everyday form, lips brushing against a smudged temple. "I lay my claim on you."

* * *

Nick wavered in and out, not really clear on what was going on.

Voices. Hands. A prick on his skin. Something on his face.

Nothingness.

Awareness again later.

More voices.

Semi-nothingness.

And finally he woke in a hospital room, monitored, bandaged, hooked to an IV.

Hank was there, looking so relived. Word was that the serial killer they had been chasing had caught Nick unawares, had dragged him into the warehouse and had tried to blow him up. He had ended up shish kebab himself when he had miscalculated his bomb. End of story.

Nick didn't argue.

He did argue the point of staying under medical observation and released himself AMA.

"Are you crazy?" Monroe exclaimed as he stormed into the room, looking wild-eyed and just a little frazzled. "You nearly got blown up!"

"And I'll be fine at home."

The words got him a glower. Monroe hated 'fine' in context with Nick's health.

"I want to go home," the Grimm wheedled.

"And you will," the blutbad grumbled, grabbing his partner before Nick could stumbled. His legs were a bit jelly-like. "You could have called, though. I was worried sick when you didn't come home last night! I could hardly call your cop partner and demand to know where you are."

Nick let himself get maneuvered into the mandatory wheelchair, nodding with a sigh. "Gotta change that."

"What?"

"I could tell Hank."

"No, you won't," Monroe said firmly.

"Why not?"

"You really have to ask? Just how badly was your brain rattled? I was the suspect in one of your cases! I'm the guy in whose house a victim was killed! And now you're living with me?"

"Ye-es?"

Monroe rolled his eyes. "Concussion," he muttered and pushed the wheelchair out into the parking lot.

"Monroe…"

"No!"

Nick slumped back. "Okay."

He was given a suspicious look. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

The suspicious look deepened, but Monroe didn't argue. He didn't want Griffin to know about them, he didn't want Nick to become a target. Word had already spread among some of the creatures, of course. Monroe knew that his affiliation was known in some circles, but so far nothing had come of it.

"How did you find me in the end?" Nick asked, curious, a slight smile on his lips.

"Called every damn hospital in the vicinity," the wolf grumbled.

Nick chuckled.

"You laugh," Monroe continued, miffed. "But you have a tendency to end up in one of them!"

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Monroe…"

"Dude, you have the biggest freaking target I've ever seen painted on your back! And that's taking into account that you're a Grimm!"

"Look, I…"

"A Grimm, Nick! Who is a walking target anyway! But you… you…" He threw up his hands.

"I love you too," Nick said softly.

That stopped the other man and he cleared his throat, a bit caught off guard.

"Yeah, well… uh… home," he stammered.

Nick grinned more.

Monroe shot him a dark look, helped him into the car, and finally they were off. Nick reached over and squeezed one knee.

"I'm okay, Monroe. Really."

Aside from a ton of revelations and a lot of stuff they had to talk about when they were home.

Monroe just scowled, but he didn't argue.

* * *

"You could have easily claimed him right then and there."

Adalind Schade regarded her superior with a speculative look. Renard smiled briefly, looking for all the world as human as the next creature, with his façade firmly in place.

"I could have. But he is different, Adalind. Very different."

"You enjoy him."

Another smile. "That sounded almost like a complaint."

She didn't respond, simply lowered her eyes for a brief moment.

"I do enjoy him," the regnant told her. "He was meant for me. I felt his soul and it sings clearly. He already belongs to my side, Adalind. No matter who his mate is, I am his counterpart. Claiming his body is unimportant since I already have his very essence bound to me as it should be."

The hexenbiest nodded slowly. "A physical claim would mark him for everyone, though."

"He already bears the mark of his mate. I respect that."

"Of course."

Renard looked out the window of his apartment. One of the many places he owned in this city, non traceable to the police captain. As delicious as it would be to claim a Grimm as his full mate, he knew it would upset the balance of power. Nick belonged to Monroe in that regard and he had told the truth that he would respect that bond.

Only two pairs had ever been reported. Only two in centuries. It had been more than a pact of power and a marriage arranged by necessity. It had been real and deep.

Renard was quite aware that he couldn't force Nick into anything.

But as a Grimm, as a peacekeeper and profiler, his place was at the regnant's side, as it had been whenever both their kind met. Renard would be able to do much for the other man, and Nick would be more than a mere tool. Never a tool, he mused. The Grimm was power incarnate and this one more than the previous bearer of the Grimm abilities.

Mine, Renard thought fondly.


	4. Chapter 4

Monroe had listened to Nick's tale with wide eyes and growing agitation, until the wolf in him rose with a snarl and exploded in righteous anger. Deep claw marks in the wall spoke of his outburst. Eyes glowed a bright red and the continued growling told the rest of the story.

"How dare he?" the blutbad raged.

Nick, still looking like someone's punching bag, watched him with mild curiousity. There was no fear, just acceptance that his partner was mid-shift to his more feral side and ready to tear anything or anyone apart who might threaten the other man.

"He's not your mate!" Monroe yelled.

"No," the Grimm answered, voice level. "He isn't. You are. I don't intend to fuck him either."

Monroe stopped at the crude words. "What?"

"I'm yours, Monroe. All of me. I don't give a flying shit about what he wants me to be. I am yours alone."

The blutbad had him flush against the wall, towering over him, clawed hands digging into the wall. "Mine," he snarled, fangs showing prominently.

"Yours. Only yours," Nick replied, curling his good arm around the solid form of his partner. He ignored the twinges, the dulled pain of too many bruises to count.

This was important.

Monroe kissed him, hungry and deep and desperate. Nick responded in kind, holding the other close, relishing in the firmness of the body he held. He winced when a bruise made itself known again and Monroe let go, breathing hard. There was a flash of guilt.

"Not your fault," Nick murmured against his lips, brushing a kiss over them.

"You're mine," the other man said, voice calmer but still possessive. "He can't have you. Mine!"

"I know. He won't."

"But he claims you!"

"He claims my partnership as a Grimm."

Red flooded the normally so warm brown eyes again. "You're my Grimm!"

He caressed Monroe's cheek, thumb rubbing over the beard. "Yours. All of me."

The wolf wasn't easily appeased, though Monroe was truly fighting for it. Burying his head against Nick's neck, he sighed. Then lightly teethed the delicate skin.

Nick felt a shoot of arousal, though it didn't last long. He was too tired, too pumped full of meds that made his body sluggish, and he really wanted nothing more than to lay down and snuggle up to his partner.

Monroe seemed to sense it because he straightened, a sheepish look of apology in his eyes. "C'mon," he said softly.

They ended up in the bedroom, Nick curled close to the taller man, dozing off almost immediately.

Monroe just watched, the possessiveness rising again with a vengeance. There was a knot in his stomach, the tension of knowing someone else was laying a claim to what he never thought he would have to share with anyone.

A powerful creature that could wipe him off the face of this earth. A myth even in the creature community. Someone who protected a Grimm…

Monroe balled his hands into fists, noticing his still present claws. He felt very wolfish right now, close to releasing his iron control and just go out to hunt for the regnant, but he wouldn't; he couldn't. Nick was his to protect and right now he was vulnerable.

Nick was his. No one else's. Not even the regnant's. And he would fight for this. Always!

* * *

Renard carefully watched his detective as Nick came back to work. He still looked bruised and he moved a little awkwardly sometimes, but he wasn't taking any more sick days. The captain smiled to himself and settled behind his desk, his other senses quite aware of the Grimm by now. It had been like that the moment Marie Kessler had arrived in his territory, dying and already transferring her powers to her nephew. Then, with her passing, the flare had been brief but intense, and finally he had been almost dormant to the regnant's eyes.

Not any more.

Nick was a bright beacon, a light in his soul, and it was a warmth he hadn't felt or missed before.

His counterpart. His companion.

The Grimm was quite unaware who Renard was, just like before. He didn't give the captain a second look, talked normally, treated him like his regular superior.

One day Renard knew the truth would come out. Nick would grow into their connection and he would come to recognize his counterpart.

It would be interesting to see the outcome.

Very interesting.

* * *

It had taken Nick nearly a month to a) convince Monroe that he had to find the regnant and b) to really find the powerful creature. Okay, he had no illusions over whether or not he had really found him. The regnant had wanted to be found. He had let Nick come to him, had guided him here, and the Grimm had followed the trail left for him.

In that month the young cop had let his detection skills work overtime, had spent day after day in the trailer, turning it upside down and inside out, and he had finally found something on the regnant.

Not a book, a diary or a journal. Nothing on paper.

It had been a digital medium. Who would have thought?

And it had been more than a sketch and a few obscure remarks. It had been a fully detailed history of the regnants and the Grimms, of what their partnership employed, what a companion was, what being a counterpart meant.

Nick had listened to it alone at first, then had Monroe sit in. The blutbad had been drawn between anger, outrage, fear and wonder.

"He can't have you, Nick!"

Nick framed the tense face and kissed his mate. "He won't."

"But as a counterpart to the regnant he claims you!"

"You already did. And if I understand Aunt Marie correctly, the claim is as a political partner, not sexual."

Red flashed in the brown eyes. "Never!"

"I love you, Monroe. This doesn't change anything."

"She said your lives are interwoven," the blutbad muttered unhappily.

Yes, she had. Because over the centuries the regnants and Grimms had naturally drifted together. Their partnerships meant strength and standing for each party involved, and something between them responded to another.

Nick had never felt anything with anyone around him like what he had in the warehouse. It was like a part of him sliding into the right slot, the Grimm suddenly more settled and very much aware of the power the regnant yielded, though not his identity.

Not yet.

"Monroe, I'm yours. Always will be." Nick pushed him back, straddling his lap and claiming Monroe's mouth. "Always. Yours."

Monroe growled, pulling them together, devouring his mate's mouth. Hands slid under Nick's shirt, over warm skin, feeling the hard muscle underneath the deceptive softness, and he wanted to feel more.

Much more.

*

There had been quite a few wild encounters over the two weeks following Nick's discovery of the digital files. Every time it ended with a bite to the already prominent claim mark on his shoulder. Nick let the blutbad take what he needed for reassurance, claiming him in turn; it had Monroe almost lose all control.

"I love you, Monroe," he whispered breathlessly.

Maybe it had been the first time he said it like that, and from the expression in the wide brown eyes it really was, but Nick felt he had to say it. It had to be out in the open, no doubts between them, because things were changing.

For both of them.

He had listened to the files several more times, aware that the claim a regnant would stake on a Grimm wasn't proprietary like an ownership, nor was it sexual, like a mate. It was… an alliance, for lack of a better word. It was a work partnership. The regnant was so-called royalty, a figure of command and power. The Grimm was the executive arm, the peacekeeper.

Because the Grimms could see the creature world like the creatures could. Because they walked in both worlds. Because the regnant needed a catalyst and, from very early records, someone to rein him in if things got out of hand. And mostly to balance his immense power with the responsibilities of protecting his territory and his people.

Nick would be what he had always been: a cop. Never a bountyhunter, never a mercenary, never an assassin. He wouldn't follow the regnant's commands and kill.

It was a cooperation.

Right now it was futile to argue the finer nuances of the claim with Monroe, who was driven by instinct and emotions. He was afraid to lose Nick to something so much more powerful, a creature of myth, of royal lineage.

Nick didn't care where the regnant came from, how mythological powerful he was, the Grimm was his own person and he loved Monroe. He would have to see where this whole mess with the regnant led to.

And he would dig long and hard to find out who the man was in everyday life.

Because Nick Burckhardt had no intention to become a political playball.

*

Now, standing in the depth of the forest park, looking at the creature that was so rare and so powerful it was a myth even in the creature world, Nick tried not to think of Monroe, who had insisted to come along. He was somewhere deeper in the woods, keeping an eye on his mate without being right next to him.

Don't think about him, Nick told himself.

This was about him and the regnant. No one else.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice steady and calm.

The regnant smiled. "You know that answer already."

"Then let me rephrase it: what is your name?"

"For now, unimportant."

He scowled.

"Would it change anything, Grimm?"

Nick knew it wouldn't.

The regnant nodded. "You looked for me. You found me."

"And I know about regnants and Grimms of the past."

The creature tilted his head, looking almost amused. "So Marie did keep a journal."

"None of your business."

"I thought she would. While we didn't see eye to eye, she was a Grimm."

"And you had her killed."

"I won't deny it."

Nick exhaled slowly. "Because you wanted control of me?"

The regnant chuckled. "No one can control a Grimm, Nick. Not even me. You are very much your own person. You have her files, correct? You know. You know about counterparts, about this symbiosis between our kind. You are part of me, complementing me, as I am part of you, fulfilling you and your destiny."

Nick was aware of Monroe coming closer, of the barely audible growl of anger. It was something that had developed between them, this awareness, this closeness, and it simply let him know.

"I don't claim you as a mate, only as my companion."

"There have been others like you and I, joined together," Nick stated.

"Oh, yes. The lucky ones."

"Two were pairs."

"I see that her files are extensive. Good." The regnant smiled, revealing fangs. "Willing pairs, Nick. Never forced. You have a mate, my Grimm."

Nick tensed at the proprietary remark.

"You are not owned, Nick," the regnant added, slowly approaching. "I could never own you."

Monroe was close. So very close. He could feel him like he was next to him. Nick hoped he wouldn't do something stupid.

"I should hope Marie's files included that. This is not about controlling what or who you are. It's about partnership, an alliance of sorts, trust and friendship."

"I don't trust you," Nick said icily. "You took my aunt from me."

"The cancer would have ended her life not much later. She came into my territory, she was pursued by reapers, and she was reluctant to reveal your true nature to you, Nick. It was a kindness."

Nick clenched his hands into fists, teeth grinding. It took everything not to launch himself at the creature and make him pay for the remarks.

The regnant was clearly aware of his intentions and the wings whispered softly as he moved them an inch.

"You can't change the past, nor can you evade your future, Grimm. She had two more months, correct?"

Nick glared.

"The result would have been the same. The reapers might have gotten to you by then. It wasn't a chance I could take."

"And now you ask for my trust?"

"Not now. It will come. I mean you no harm, but I also won't be your guardian angel." Fangs showed. "The reapers won't take a chance to kill you on my territory, but everything else you might encounter won't be so lenient."

"I'm not asking for it!"

"What I want, Nick, is a truce."

"I don't kill you, you keep your hexenbiester away from me?" Nick asked coldly.

Part of him ached at the hostility he projected and he didn't understand what that part was. The regnant had been nothing but helpful so far, saving his ass, protecting him – but he had also had Marie killed.

"You don't want to kill me," the regnant said mildly, so close he was actually towering over him. "You can feel this connection, too. You know what it is, Nick Burckhardt. You have already accepted it."

The regnant raised one clawed hand and, when Nick didn't do more than tense a little, placed it gently on the Grimm's chest. Nick stiffened, his eyes growing wide, as he felt something like a small charge sent through his body, only dimly aware of Monroe's snarl and approach.

"Monroe, no!" he managed, looking into the burnt orange eyes, into the swirling blackness. "I'm fine!"

Warmth. Power. Emotions he couldn't place. Happiness. Soul light. Soul warmth. The connection between them, meaning… meaning life… meaning companionship… meaning… meaning… no loneliness.

He shuddered when the emotional tidalwave hit him, when he felt the age and the life of this creature, felt the search, then the hope, and finally the acceptance that like many of his kind, the regnant might not find his counterpart.

And then Nick.

The beacon of light and warmth, of perfect resonance. Knowing it was his Grimm, the perfect missing piece, sliding into place in his soul.

The regnant tilted his head, calm and composed and so powerful, it wouldn't take him much to take care of the Grimm once and for all.

Never, Nick, a voice whispered. My protectorate. Mine.

Nick curled a hand around the leathery wrist, holding on, feeling… a rush, a surge, something not sexual. More like a confirmation that this was right, needed, okay. This was his counterpart in the creature world. Powerful. Oh so powerful.

Your counterpart.

He swallowed, then nodded. Yours.

The power surged through him again, then it was gone. All Nick felt was the touch to his chest, the skin under his fingers, and he looked into the most unnatural eyes he had ever seen.

He licked his lips, tiny tremors racing through him.


	5. Chapter 5

And then he was suddenly encased in strong arms, pulled away from a very amused looking regnant, and he heard the steady warning growl of his partner. Monroe felt tense, radiating aggression that was still leashed but ready to unfurl and have a go at the perceived rival.

"I'm okay," Nick whispered urgently. "I'm fine. Really."

The blutbad continued to growl, pulling him further back, and from the clawed, furry hands, he was way too close to a full transformation. Claws, fangs, shifted facial features…

Shit!

Nick twisted in the arms and finally wrestled out of the possessive grasp. "Monroe, snap out of it! I'm okay!"

Monroe shook himself, the most prominent blutbad traits disappearing, but the eyes still had a tinge of red. He was tense as a bow, ready to snap, ready to get himself killed in his need to protect his mate.

"Nick…" he managed.

"I'm fine."

He turned and found the regnant watching them curiously. The strange whispers he had heard before were still there, and just looking at the powerful creature had something inside him surge, too. The regnant smiled, wings twitching once, then he disappeared within the thick foliage.

Till the next time, my Grimm.

Strangely, the words had arrived directly in his head without bothering to come through his ears. And even more strangely, it didn't freak Nick any more than a creature did nowadays.

"Nick?" Monroe asked, voice tightly controlled, still so much aggression and anger and primal fury in it.

He drew the other man into a kiss, not giving a damn if anyone was watching. There was a hint of fangs and more than a hint of claws that brushed over his clothes. Monroe was wavering, his control slip-sliding away from him. The aggression was still there, not easily dispersed, and Nick drew back, looking into the inhuman eyes.

"This is us, Monroe," he whispered, blunt teeth nipping at the blutbad's chin, his lips, drawing a rumble. "All of this. My blood for you. Everything else is political play. Power. Alliance."

"Your blood only for me," the wolf rumbled, catching another kiss, arousal heavy in his voice.

Nick was quite aware where they were. Deep in the forest park, away from people… the perfect place. He had done a lot of foolish things before, especially as a rookie Grimm, but this wasn't foolish. This was calculated and while risky, perfectly within the safety parameters of their relationship.

He pushed back, smiling invitingly, letting the challenge bleed into the smile. The Grimm was equally excited, the hunter ready to hunt and be hunted.

Monroe's nostrils flared as he picked up on what was about to happen, lips pulling back over impressive fangs.

And Nick whirled around and ran.

* * *

He watched the chase with amusement and just a little bit of shared lust, feeling the soul bond echo with the Grimm's want and need. It was like a wildfire burning through him, so new and intense it was breath-taking.

Reveling in the novelty and the strange familiarity of the connection, he crouched in the trees high above the forest ground, like a voyeur keeping an eye on his Grimm and the blutbad mate.

Nick was fast, relying on his reflexes, letting his instincts play. Grimms had a creature touch to them. They were more than human, but they weren't part of the creature world. Their bodies developed when they received their powers and when Nick let those Grimm instincts guide him, he was magnificent.

He couldn't possibly last as long in a chase as a female blutbad would, but he was cunning and he used the forest to his advantage.

Deeper and deeper, away from the hiking trails. Private and out of the way.

Renard smiled, fangs long and bright white, when the Grimm was finally tackled to the ground, caught as prey, claimed and marked. Not that he was really prey. There was so much more to the young man, so much strength, currently still masked by this endearing innocence that was far from pure or naivety. No, Nick Burckhardt wasn't naïve. He had never been and never would be. He was sometimes overwhelmed by the world he had been thrown into, but he was handling it better and better.

His Grimm. His soul bonded.

Renard smiled with pride.

No, he didn't need him the way the blutbad did. It was different but no less intense.

Renard spread his wings and sailed to a clearing, neatly assuming his human façade, and walked to the waiting car. He dressed casually and finally got behind the wheel.

It was time to look after his territory.

*

It had been a good chase. Crap, who he was he fooling? It had been amazing, incredible, out of this world! It had gotten his blood boiling in a way he hadn't thought would ever be healthy for a reformed blutbad.

Monroe still had the smell of arousal and challenge in his nose, felt the slap of branches and leaves against his body, the adrenaline high giving his senses a sharp spike that had him so very much aware of the Grimm he was after.

Running after Nick had been heaven, stretching his limbs, letting his instincts roam. The scent of the forest around him, the wilderness, nothing to restrain him, to force him into hiding who and what he was. Finally catching his mate had been so much more. It had been beyond bliss, had freed him like nothing ever had, and for the first time he hadn't been scared of his inner animal.

Because the inner animal had crooned and panted and howled and whined and wanted. He had given in, had taken the willing body in his arms, had claimed his mate repeatedly. There had been no fear from Nick, no pain or hesitation, only the heady aroma of arousal and desire and demand.

Slate gray eyes had met blood red ones, the wolf recognizing the power and strength of his Grimm, and despite the rut and the instinctual haze, despite the heavy taste of the hot blood, Monroe hadn't completely lost it. He hadn't blacked out.

Now, snuggled closer to his partner, enjoying the warmth and the smell of Nick, his touch, his very presence, he was still reeling from the experience. They both lay against an old, overturned tree, its giant roots sticking in the air behind them as they used the cover of the plants growing all over the ancient trunk as protection against prying eyes

Not that there was anyone around.

Monroe pulled Nick against him, the smaller form so perfect, so fitting, so enticing and arousing still. There were marks, not just claim marks, all over his body, and it thrilled the inner beast. It was even more thrilled by the fact that Nick's teeth marks were on him.

He licked over the claim mark and Nick shivered. Monroe felt himself harden and he slid gently against Nick's ass, drawing a breathless moan.

Again.

He wanted this man again.

He felt the surge and he pushed one hand down the quivering stomach, closing around the semi-hard cock.

"Monroe…" Nick murmured.

Blutbaden were very… intense. And they got it up several times in a row. Especially after a chase.

There was no objection when he started to work the cock in his hand, then he moved against Nick, and when the Grimm let himself get rolled onto his stomach, Monroe slipped inside with no great effort.

It drew a breathy groan, pain and pleasure combining, and he shuddered.

It was a hard and fast fuck, Nick crying his release and collapsing. Monroe was panting, resting his forehead against one sweaty shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, just them, in the forest, nothing and no one else. Nick had fallen into a doze and Monroe watched, ears alert to anything threatening coming closer, but there was nothing.

*

When they finally got back to the car, both looked definitely the picture of what had happened. Rumpled, clothes stained green and brown, bits of forest clinging to them. Nick didn't mind and grinned at Monroe, who drew him into another kiss.

"You're crazy, Grimm."

"Apparently. Comes with the job description."

Monroe let the fingers of one hand play over the once again jeans-covered backside.

"Apparently," he echoed.

And the inner beast was satisfied that this was his Grimm, his Nick, his mate. The regnant's presence was a thorn in his side, but the powerful creature couldn't take his mate.

Never.

* * *

She watched the Grimm by orders of the regnant. Adalind wasn't to interfere should he work on creature cases, even if he was threatened. The hexenbiest wasn't a guardian or a warrior, though she was formidable in a fight. With the right opponent, of course. Humans were no problem, but other creatures could kill her.

Two new sisters had joined Berman, Rauthbert & Associates and they had been given the same orders.

Keep a low profile.

Keep an eye on Nick Burckhardt.

Adalind understood the importance of a regnant's counterpart, like all hexenbiester serving such a powerful creature did. She had understood why Marie Kessler needed to die, too. Not because she had been a Grimm but because Renard had needed to control her death; when it happened, how close Nick was to her and how much she would tell him. While it deprived him of knowledge he had needed in some regards, it had left him open-minded for this new world he had entered.

And he had done a lot of good. She had to approve of his style, even when ordered to protect her against the Mellifers. He had shot the queen to save a life. She had been slightly stunned by the turn of events, but it had only driven home his difference, his uniqueness.

Now Renard had claimed him and soon the Grimm would be fully bonded to their regnant.

Whether he would accept the hexenbiester working for him would be a different matter altogether. Right now he was still hurting from the loss of family and she could empathize. She had lost her sisters and hexenbiester had close bonds to their kind, whether blood-related or not.

Of course it wasn't the same; no two deaths would ever be the same. But maybe, just maybe, they could start over again. She was loyal to Renard and with him to Nick now, too.

Things would change.


	6. Chapter 6

It took two more months for Nick to discover who the regnant was, and it was, mildly put, a shock to the system. Looking at Captain Renard, his superior officer - his damned boss! - he couldn't help but notice the burnt orange eyes in a face that looked mostly human. Sharper, maybe. But the eyes…

And even without them, he knew. His very soul knew. He felt the presence of the regnant, felt it thrum through his system, and he knew.

"You," he whispered, frozen in place, still breathing hard.

The dead jagerbar lay at his feet. He mourned the death like all creatures he had had to kill, but this one hadn't given him a choice. Mad, beyond reason, nothing but instinct and bloodlust, he had killed whoever had wandered into his territory. And since the jagerbar had been a roaming loner, too, his territory hadn't been a fixed area.

Blood trickled from the shot wounds, staining the powerfully built jagerbar's clothes, just like blood was running down Nick's face from a shallow but messy cut at his hairline.

Renard watched him, not making a move, and Nick felt the concern and the need to touch, to reassure, and the Grimm gave it. A tiny inclination of his head, a flick of his eyes, and he allowed the regnant to touch him.

It was a gentle touch, reassuring for him and for the regnant, and it held no ambiguous meaning. It was weird how he responded to the creature who happened to be the captain he had been working for in the past years. Nothing of the stoic, business-like façade had remained. There was deep worry, a tenderness that spoke of the deeper bond forming between them, and a touch that went deeper than a surface caress.

The orange faded to green.

The face shifted into the softer human contours.

A hint of fangs disappeared.

Now so much made sense. At least when it came to his work as a detective, at how lenient Renard had seemed, how he had backed him and Hank up, had let them run with things that others wouldn't have been given permission to. And his questions when it came to creature-involved cases.

All made sense.

All!

Renard gently wiped the blood away, inspecting the cut and nodding. "You'll need stitches, Nick," he said softly.

He looked completely human again, but for the first time Nick sensed his difference, the power, the core of steel and fire. He felt it in his very touch, like magic trailing along his fingertips where they had touched Nick's skin. Gentle, warm, soft, not at all aggressive, but sharp and biting underneath should anything threaten or attack.

Renard, the regnant, stepped back, giving him space, watching him calmly.

"Why did you reveal yourself?" Nick asked, finally finding his tongue.

His thoughts were still whirling, though. He felt off-balance. This he hadn't expected.

"It was time. You started to sense me, feel me, respond to my power. You opened yourself up to the possibility of this bond and that was all it took."

Nick knew it was the truth. He had picked up strange echoes around the precinct, unable to put them in context with his captain, but it would have happened sooner or later.

Because Monroe had backed down from his possessive claims, had come to terms with another sharing the Grimm with him. Because Nick had had the time to understand what being the counterpart to a regnant meant. He could recite the files Marie had kept hidden inside out, knew everything and still there were blanks.

This might be the weirdest kind of triangle he had ever heard of, Nick mused with an almost hysterical amusement.

"You will be my strongest weak spot, Nick," Renard went on, smiling slightly. "You are my companion-counterpart."

"This will be awkward at work," Nick blurted, thoughts still chasing each other.

Renard had never given even the slightest hint of being aware of the Grimm. Or that he was a creature himself.

Superior control. Iron control. Incredible power locked underneath the tall, powerful frame of their captain…

"No more than before. You're simply aware of me now. It would have happened sooner or later as you grow more and more into your powers. You already are much stronger than Marie ever was. You have control."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Don't dismiss what you've achieved, Grimm. Simply expect there to be a rise in your abilities. The bond is now two-ways. No more shields, no more barriers." Renard came closer again, placing a hand on Nick's chest like he had before.

The Grimm part in him responded and the echo left him breathless.

Remember who you are.

Trust your instincts.

Nothing else.

Marie's words, sounding so much stronger in his mind than back when she had whispered them breathlessly before her passing.

He was a Grimm. He was a blutbad's mate. He was a regnant's companion-counterpart. He felt it in his soul and it was just the beginning of what he could be with the regnant, what he could still become with Monroe. It should be tearing him apart to be split like this, but strangely enough, it felt good. It felt whole.

Power called to power. Nick had become the center of this, if he wanted to or not.

"This is what we are. This is what you are to me, Grimm. Nothing has ever mattered more to me, nothing ever will." Renard tilted his head a little. "And nothing will change at work. I'm still your boss in that regard." White teeth flashed. "And I will kick your ass if you get insubordinate."

"And you will continue to push certain cases my way," Nick observed.

Renard chuckled and dropped his hand, the echoes still between them. "Most likely. You are a Grimm, Nick. It's your job. Being a cop and a Grimm gives you a certain advantage over say, a librarian."

He glared at the taller man. Nick had learned a lot about his aunt's secret life in the past months, especially by reading all her journals back and forth. She had been a single-minded woman, out to rid the world of the bad creatures, killing a few good ones on the way, it seemed.

She had had a reputation. He had gotten that much from his first meeting with Monroe such a long time ago. A bad, bad reputation. The Terminator of all Grimms.

But she had told him one thing: he had a responsibility he could not ignore. He had seen enough to know that. He had done enough to understand that. Yes, he was still trying to make sense of a lot of things, and finding out he was the counterpart of a regnant didn't help.

Aunt Marie would probably have blown a fuse, he mused. She would most likely have tried to keep this from happening.

Not that anyone had the power to.

This was an essential part of Nick reacting to what was Renard. His true form.

Renard was still smiling knowingly.

"So nothing changes?" Nick finally said. "I'm still a target because of what I am. I'm still a cop and a Grimm."

"Essentially, yes."

The bond sang softly, like a constant melody that was reassuring and calming. Calming especially for the regnant. Renard looked relaxed, the lines of his body easy and loose. The bond was there to stay. Like Monroe was.

Yeah, weird kind of triangular relationship, he thought again, almost laughing out loud. One sexual, one platonic.

And he had to work with it. Creature politics and so on. Renard was politically suave, very adept, the perfect player, though not in any position to guide and influence anyone in Portland. At least no one who he didn't have to. Nick had yet to understand what a regnant was doing in this position.

Then again, maybe the answer was easy: keep the city safe. He could do that best as a police captain. He might even go for a higher position, too.

Nick looked at the dead body not far away from them and grimaced.

"Call it in," Renard simply said, giving him some space. "You caught a killer. Good job, detective."

He shot the regnant a dark look, but he drew out his cell.

No reception, of course.

That meant going back to the car, using the phone there, then wait for the cavalry to arrive.

Renard just smiled again.

 

When Nick returned, he was gone, but there was the distinct feeling that the regnant was still around.

In a way if was comforting.

* * *

Monroe came to slowly accept the third person in this relationship, though for a while the blutbad instincts hissed and snarled and snapped whenever Nick had too much of Renard's scent on him. It wasn't that they were touching more than before; actually, aside from a brief clap on the shoulder just one time there had been no touching at all.

Distance.

Superior officer, detective. Nothing new there.

"You can sense this bond, right?" Nick asked one night after he had calmed down his mate once more. Renard hadn't even been at the office.

Monroe drew him close, nuzzling the warm skin at his neck. "In a way. Not like a scent or something I can see, but it's there. I can tell when it strengthens."

"I would never betray you," the young Grimm whispered.

"I know. This is just… weird. Really weird. It's… not something I could ever fight." He sighed into the crook of Nick's neck.

"And you won't have to because I won't leave you. Ever."

"Blutbaden don't share, Nick. We have only one life mate. This is… unprecedented."

"Like a blutbad and a Grimm together?" Nick teased.

It got him a chuckle and Monroe slipped a hand under his t-shirt, letting it rest over the old scar. It was a habit and Nick had accepted that this was Monroe's way of reassuring himself again and again.

"Yeah, like that. I know Renard isn't trying to… mate," he almost choked on the word, "with you. I got that from the files. And I know he would wipe the floor with me if he wanted to and I tried to stop him. And I really, really know you're not sleeping with him."

"But instinct is hard to ignore," Nick finished softly.

Monroe nodded.

"We can work this, Monroe. We can. I can't be anyone but who I am. I can't undo what connected me to Renard."

"It's in your blood or your genes or whatever," the blutbad agreed.

He didn't like it, but it was a fact. His Grimm was part of a powerful, rare and very secretive creature. Nothing could undo it.

Still, acceptance was a daily fight.

The regnant wasn't an ever-present oppressive force, but he was imprinted on Nick. Monroe felt it.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn't help that Renard had been at the precinct late one night, the office empty except for them, looking exhausted, almost haggard, and showing the strains of the past few days as clearly as Nick. The case had been terrible from the start, with two dead children and four missing. The two had been strangled and while the mother was found not much later, she too had been dead.

The body had been in a very bad shape, just like the next they had found, of the father. 'Bad shape' was still an understatement and he knew he would dream of it for a while. In the end Nick had only been able to find one child alive, in a terrible condition. She might not survive the night. The murderers had been caught, but one had committed suicide by overdosing just before his arrest. The other was probably mentally so unstable that he wouldn't go to trial at all. He had a one-way ticket to a heavy security mental institution.

Hank had already left and Nick had told him so would he, but that had been hours ago. Griffin had been ready to kill the crazy killer with his bare hands when they had arrested him, and so had been a lot of people. The precinct had been under constant pressure and the PD had worked their collective asses off to catch whoever had abducted and killed those children.

It hadn't helped that the crazy guy had hinted at even more, undiscovered bodies. Renard had called in the FBI and Hank had muttered 'good riddance' to the case. No one here would fight over jurisdiction with the FBI on this. Their profilers were invited to deal with the creep all they wanted all day long.

Nick found himself next to the coffee machine in the silent, semi-dark kitchen, looking at Renard, feeling the waves of exhaustion. Juggling the news crews, reporters and wanna-be journalists with the investigations, the public outcry and fear, had been demanding.

 

He had followed the other man into the room, drawn to the regnant by an imperative he had come to associate with Renard needing his support. The man had incredible shields, keeping everything from Nick throughout the case since neither could give in and break apart, but now… it leaked and threatened to burst apart at the seams.

"Go home," the captain said softly.

"You, too," Nick replied.

The green eyes were weary, the smile weak. This case had eaten at the other man just as much as it had on Nick or Hank or Wu or anyone else. Maybe even more so. Renard was a regnant and he protected his chosen city, his people, his territory. Humans or creatures, he didn't care. It was his responsibility and he took it very, very seriously.

And without thinking Nick was suddenly there, so close he could see the lines of strain, of no sleep, of worry and determination. For the first time he did what Renard had done a few times before: he placed his hand on the broad chest.

It was like a jolt to his system and Renard's eyes widened. His face reflected his shock, his surprise, his… hunger. He was still so very much human, not a single blip of creature traits, but he didn't have to be a creature for Nick to see so much more.

And it confirmed something part of Nick had been thinking about. This was them. Awareness, knowing about the other, about emotional states of mind, about troubles, about worries, about pain. This was what being a companion-counterpart meant. Not sex. Not so simple. It was complicated; and so much more. Care. Worry. Pushing if necessary, leaving it be if the matter called for it. Being strong for both of them, giving in if he had to, but never submit.

They were equals.

Perfection.

Renard took his hand, pulled him close, and Nick felt a shudder run through the taller man. Like this was what he had needed and had been afraid to ask for.

Support.

Confirmation.

"You could have told me," he whispered.

The regnant chuckled and Nick felt the power realign itself, smooth out and become less erratic. It was as if something that had been buried for too long finally rose and took its rightful place. It was a pure sensation, nothing dark or malicious, nothing devouring or overwhelming.

"You're still learning, Nick."

Learning that physical touch didn't equal flirting or sexual acts. That the warmth he felt flooding through him was what Renard felt, that the physical contact was healing, not arousing. It balanced the regnant.

"Sometimes I need a kicking."

"You have done very well so far."

Renard rested his forehead against Nick's for a moment, then pushed back. Nick frowned, aware that this might have been way too short, but he didn't push. Then again, he might have to.

"I'm not offended, you know," he remarked casually. "This is what you need from me, right?"

The regnant regarded him steadily, the eyes holding a hint of orange, then a small smile stole over his lips. It looked too brittle to call the man back to normal.

"How is your mate going to deal with it?"

"As usual," the Grimm answered truthfully with a shrug. He stepped closer to Renard once more. "I can handle this. Both of you. In your own ways."

The regnant released a soft breath and allowed Nick to gather him close once more. Nick slipped his hands around the solid form, feeling the energies hum between them. There was a warm sensation running through his body. He felt Renard sigh in contentment and something centered itself in Nick.

True perfection.

There was no sound but the other man's soft breaths for a long time, and he simply let the powerful being restore whatever needed to be restored. Closing his eyes, concentrating on that sensation inside him, Nick was almost able to pinpoint where the link between them was located. Like a solid anchor point inside him, just there, just like that, and not going anywhere. Thinking of it, thinking of caressing the presence, drew a startled gasp out of Renard.

There was a flare of orange in the human eyes and the regnant stared at him.

So close.

Nick smirked.

Renard rested his cheek against Nick's temple, drawing another shuddering breath. "You're getting good."

"I hope so."

Finally Renard stepped back once more, this time looking more rested. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Nick gave him a calm, centered smile. The green eyes seemed to reflect the regnant's very soul for a brief moment, then the captain of the Portland PD reasserted himself. He straightened his clothes, though without his tie he still looked more normal than usually.

"Go home, Nick," his superior officer told him. "Monroe might storm the precinct if you don't."

The Grimm chuckled. "He's used to the crazy hours and he knows the case was demanding. And take your own advice. Go home. Sleep."

"I will."

It wasn't an empty promise. Nick simply knew it. So he went back to his desk, powered down his computer, and gathered his things. Renard was nowhere to be seen when he left the precinct and he simply nodded at a beat cop who was just coming in from patrol.

Then he was in his car and heading home.

*

Of course Monroe smelled Renard on him, but instead of snarling and growling, he only cocked his head. There was a hint of red, but Nick was rather surprised at his control.

"I know nothing happened," the blutbad stated when he translated the silent question. "Aside from close physical contact. Fully clothed."

Nick gave him a tired smile at the little jab. If Monroe could joke about it, he was getting better acceptance-wise.

"Bad case. Worse for someone like Renard."

"And you helped."

Nick nodded and hung up his jacket, suppressing a yawn. Monroe got up from where he had been working on a clock. Blutbaden lived on very little sleep, but so did cops as well. He drew Nick into a brief hug, nuzzling against one temple.

"Go to bed."

"Yes, Mom."

Monroe chuckled and watched him go upstairs, then he switched off the lights and followed.

* * *

Cases came and went. Some good, some bad, some really ugly. Hank and Nick worked them as before, with no changes as to how the captain treated his young detective.

 

He was cold.

Terribly, terribly cold.

It had seeped through his clothes, into his skin, soaking him through and through. His muscles ached, his bones creaked in protest, just like his joints.

And he was cold.

His fingers were stiff and slightly numb. Cold. He wasn't blue yet, but not far from it. At least in his opinion.

Everything was cold.

The wind had picked up, biting into the clothes, the jeans and the jacket, trying to steal more warmth from him.

The rain had abated, now just a light drizzle, but even those droplets were like ice on his already cold and numbing skin.

Nick looked around the dreary site, taking in the yellow crime scene tape that seemed to be the only spec of color. Everything else was gray and brown. The crime site was in the middle of nowhere, with broken tree branches lying around, old stumps and tree roots making it hard to walk without stumbling, and the ground was slippery and soft from all the rain. He had driven out here in this rain, cursing the foul weather, and while he had dressed for the cold, even warm clothes stopped protecting the body against it after a while.

The shallow grave with the bones that had been discovered by a hiker was awash in muddy water. Human bones; skeleton of a man. Everything had been collected, bagged and tagged and sent to the morgue.

For once it hadn't been a creature kill.

But it had been a creature killed.

Nick looked at the now empty grave, nothing more than a hole in the ground, and he felt sick and tired and so very cold.

And guilty.

A Grimm had killed the man. Father of two. Married to a wonderful woman who had tried not to cry when Hank had told her. But her expression of terror and fear when she had discovered who... well, what, Nick was had been like a blow to his very soul.

Renard had told them to follow what leads they had, his eyes lingering no more on Nick than they did on Hank, but all trails went cold. Except for those Nick couldn't share with his partner.

So he talked with Monroe about them.

A Grimm had killed the man. A lot pointed toward Marie, who had been in Portland at the time Peter Davenport had disappeared. Nick had tried to talk to his widow, but she had been trembling so hard, stammering pleas and begging him to let her live, he had simply left, deeply disturbed.

Now he was here, at the grave, thoughts whirling.

Why had Davenport been killed? From the brief looks the Grimm had gotten of the wife and kids, they looked rather a lot like reinigen, but not exactly. He would have to look them up. Reinigen weren't dangerous unless threatened and with their backs against the wall.

Why kill any of them?

Then again, why kill a creature because they were different?

He exhaled sharply, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

The site was ancient, all trace already washed away by the frequent rain falls throughout the years. The crime scene guys had sifted through what debris they had bagged back at the lab.

No trace.

Only Nick's instinctual knowledge. He could hardly pin this on his aunt, nor on an unknown Grimm.

Cold case.

Getting even colder.

And so was he.


	8. Chapter 8

The car's heater was on full blast, but aside from making his slowly reviving skin sting, it didn't do much for the bone-deep cold.

Nick shivered and turned the heat up to full.

It took over an hour to get back through the evening traffic. By the time he got out of the stifling hot car, he hadn't really stopped shivering and feeling cold. His fingers refused to warm any more than they already had.

"It wasn't your fault."

The voice was dark and smooth, with a creature edge to it that only a Grimm could hear. The bond sang softly, pushing lightly against Nick's mind. He wasn't really surprised by the presence of his counterpart. Nick had learned to trust in his instincts in that regard, too, able to tell where Renard was, if he was close, if he was okay.

Right now he was behind him as Nick walked into the silent, dark house, moving lithely, almost noiselessly, like a shadow. Monroe was at his own place. He had finally decided to declutter the attic and had told Nick to not show up and be in his way. Unless there was a creature emergency, of course.

There hadn't been one. This had been a normal missing persons case that had ended with emotional upheaval for more than one party involved.

"Did Marie kill him?" Nick asked tonelessly.

"Most likely."

He whirled around, glaring at the regnant. Their eyes met and emotions sparked wildly. "Yes or no?" he demanded.

Renard tilted his head a little, studying him, looking so different from the captain in charge of the precinct. It wasn't a physical change, just… everything else.

"Yes," he finally said slowly.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Does a Grimm need a reason?"

"This one does!" he exploded. Open fury crossed the pale features. "The Davenports aren't predators! They don't give off dangerous vibes! Shit, she was terrified of me without knowing me at all!"

"All creatures fear the Grimm."

"Fear him or want to kill him or both!" He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, tousling the longish strands.

Renard closed the distance between them. "Where is your mate, Nick?"

"Busy," he snapped.

"Nick."

He stared at the regnant, shaking, anger and frustration and the weather playing together to send his body into tremors. The cold inside him was still there, eating away at his soul. Marie had killed innocents. She had told him to rely on his instincts, hunt down the bad ones, but she had taken an innocent life!

Renard stepped behind him and placed his hands gently on shoulders too tense to soothe, but he tried. He sent a gentle warmth through the connection into the taut frame. After a moment he felt the younger man relax a bit, muscles beginning to unclench. It was amazing, Nick thought fuzzily, how much he reacted to the blond.

And then he was there. No threat, just a solid, warm body. Renard drew him close, wrapped his arms firmly around the cold Grimm, lips brushing over the icy skin of his temple.

"Nick," he only said.

The young Grimm fought with his emotions, with the revelations, the reality what Marie had apparently done, what she had hidden from him. With the fear of a family who had lost their husband and father, a fear of Nick Burckhardt who had never killed anyone in cold blood before.

"You knew what she had done," he managed, voice harsh with emotions, raw, open and wounded. "You knew."

"One reason why I couldn't allow her to talk to you at length. Why I needed to silence her."

"You really think she could have made me into a mindless killing machine?" he raged, trying to push away.

"No." The regnant held on. "Never. But she could have planted doubt. You're discovering what a Grimm is supposed to be by yourself, Nick Burckhardt. You have made the right choices already."

Nick felt his body starting to warm up, felt the echoes of the regnant as the soft energies permeated his very core. He closed his eyes, head resting against the so comfortably warm chest of his counterpart. Renard's caresses were almost distractingly good. It was strangely familiar and eerily beautiful.

The desperation was still there, the anger and pain and betrayal. Nick felt a surge, a caress, and he finally felt the exhaustion, mentally as well as physically. He was at the end of his emotional rope and his body was listening to the commands of someone who knew what he needed.

"Let her grieve, Nick," the regnant said calmly. "Let her handle her loss. In time she might see the difference, hear it through the creature grapevine. Word spreads."

"That I'm the bumbling idiot Grimm who tries to make nice first?" he asked acidly.

Renard chuckled. "That you're fair."

That had him look up, meeting clear green eyes.

Are you going to be okay?

He wasn't sure the words had been spoken, but he was very clear on hearing them in his head. His soul ached with the knowledge that his aunt had killed a family man for whatever petty little crime he might have committed.

Renard framed his face, long fingers clawless and very human. "It wasn't your fault, my Grimm. It can never be your fault."

He stepped back, releasing him. Nick mourned the loss of physical contact for a brief second, then caught himself.

Renard smiled knowingly.

"Get some rest."

And then he was gone, leaving Nick missing something he couldn't put into words. He felt a little bit more balanced, like the presence of his counterpart alone had pushed a few out of joint energy lines back into place. And it was probably what had happened. The files had been vague, but the balancing effect of both Grimm and regnant on each other had been repeatedly mentioned.

*

The shower was like a miracle cure for the persistent chills, though the cold deep inside wouldn't budge. It was a cold that came from the knowledge of his family's past, not the actual temperatures he had exposed himself to.

Nick scrubbed himself dry, relishing the rush of blood to the stimulated skin, and quickly bundled up. He found the water heater ready and poured himself a large mug of tea, then crawled into bed. The mattress, the soft cover, the cocoon of warmth, began to relax him.

He was unable to sleep, mind still racing.

* * *

Monroe straightened abruptly from one of the many boxes he had hauled down from the attic, rummaging through them, looking for things to keep and things to finally donate or throw away. A growl lodged in his throat and he felt the blutbad push forward, then he stopped abruptly.

"Ever heard of knocking?" he asked brusquely, brows drawn down over dark eyes.

The tall figure smiled. While he had come to accept the regnant as part and parcel of Nick's life as a Grimm, he wasn't a fan. Sure, Renard protected his mate, didn't want to steal him from Monroe, and he was precious to him on so many other ways, but it didn't mean they had become friends.

Respected colleagues, maybe.

And Monroe knew that if he ever gave in to the beast inside him, it would be a very short and ultimately messy confrontation. Instinct was very clear on what his chances were concerning this creature. Close to nil.

"Has he called you?" Renard now asked.

"Nick? No? Why? What happened?" Worry bubbled up inside him.

"Go to him. See to your mate."

"What? What happened? What the fuck happened?" he demanded, throwing the book he had been holding back into the box.

Something broke with the impact, but Monroe ignored it.

Renard regarded him steadily. "He went back to the grave of Peter Davenport, the murdered mustelid."

Monroe snarled a curse. Nick had told him at length about the case, the cold case recently reopened, and his suspicions as to what might have killed the man. And Monroe had seen the guilt and pain in his partner's eyes.

"Why?" he now asked, though he knew the answer.

"Guilt."

Yep, that was the one.

"He told you about his suspicions that Marie Kessler took Davenport's life."

A nod.

"He is right in his assumptions. She killed him."

"Crap."

"Quite so." The regnant smiled. "Guilt and the fact that the Davenports fear him did the rest. He needs you, blutbad."

"Not you?" Monroe challenged.

It got him another smile. "I did what I could. Our connection is one of life energies and souls, Monroe. He loves you, he trusts you with more than he can give me that freely, and he needs that."

Monroe was speechless, the wolf in him blinking in confusion.

"I'm not your enemy, nor your competition. What Nick gives you, he wouldn't give me. What he takes from me and I give to him, you can't even fathom. We each play a role in his life. Right now he needs you."

Monroe swallowed. Both creatures looked at each other, aware that their common denominator in this vague form of relationship was Nick Burckhardt, the Grimm, their Grimm, and finally Monroe nodded. He had never knelt to the regnant, nor would he ever. He had never treated Renard like the mythical royalty he supposedly was. But he recognized the power and he recognized his role in the Grimm's life.

As Renard had just openly told him he did when it came to Monroe's role in Nick's life.

It was like an understanding that hadn't been put into those words. It was like a first truce between them.

* * *

Nick woke slowly.

Huh, must have dozed off after all, he thought fuzzily.

He was wrapped up in warmth, curled up on his side, snuggling like a small child against a heat source. Not really heat but warmth.

Human warmth.

Breathing, living warmth.

He smelled the unmistakable scent of his partner, of Monroe, and he listened to the soft breaths. Nick didn't know when the blutbad had climbed into bed with him or when they had ended up like the survivors of an Arctic safari, snuggled together, him with his head against Monroe's chest, but he felt completely relaxed and at peace in that position.

His Grimm side had instinctively recognized the 'intruder' and he had slept through it.

There was a little shift, muscles moving under skin, and a puff of air as Monroe woke. A hand stroked over his head and Nick involuntarily made a little noise of approval.

"Good morning," Monroe whispered into his ear, then kissed the warm lobe.

The contact of damp lips against his skin had Nick shiver. He turned his head and looked into expressive brown eyes.

Monroe smiled. "Awake?"

"No," he mumbled.

"I see. Coffee?"

"You make?"

Monroe chuckled. "Of course. Strong?"

"Very."

The living warmth rolled away from him and Nick curled up on the spot of mattress Monroe had vacated, soaking up the left-over warmth. He heard the rustle of clothes, then there was silence. With a sigh, he took inventory.

He still felt the chill deep inside, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. His feet and toes were no longer blocks of ice, and his fingers had their feeling back.

Good.

Now all he had to do was get up and make it to the kitchen.

He got all of that managed, somehow, within the next ten minutes. The smell of coffee was strong in the kitchen and Nick followed it like a scent trail. Monroe was standing next to the kitchen counter as he walked in, dressed in black sweat pants, a black t-shirt and bare footed. He held the coffee out like a offering to appease a god and Nick had to grin at the thought.

And damn did he look good in the black outfit.

After the first nip almost scorched his tongue, Nick settled on just inhaling the aroma and waiting for the scalding brew to cool.

"You could have called," Monroe remarked while preparing the rest of breakfast, which was simply cereal and milk.

Nick was silent, studying the black liquid. Yes, he could have called, but he didn't really want to talk. He had so much to deal with right now, with the revelations about his aunt, with the knowledge that she had killed innocents as well, and he needed to deal with it alone.

Monroe placed the cereal in front of him, the milk in the middle between their two bowls.

"Nick, I'm here for you. For everything. I don't want a regnant barging into my home and alerting me to the fact that you're not okay."

"He what?" Nick blurted.

Monroe scowled. "Dude, aren't you paying attention? He came to my house and told me to 'take care of my mate'. End of quote. He had to tell me, Nick! I'm not sure I like that!"

Nick blinked. "Uh..."

"You call me in situations like these. I have heightened senses, but I'm not telepathic, you know!"

"I know. And I didn't think..."

"Obviously."

"But Renard..."

"Came and told me you're being a stubborn ass." Monroe regarded him steadily. "No news there, dude. I know this case rattled you. I know it was bad to find out about your family like that. And I know you're bouncing around in that hyper brain of yours, trying to find a way to make the Davenports trust you."

Nick tried not to look too stunned, but apparently he wasn't pulling it off. Monroe just smirked at him.

"I know you, Nick Burckhardt. You're a do-gooder. You hate the fear. You actually did a lot of good, though. More than any Grimm ever did in the tales the creature have about you guys. And word spreads. Clari is a fan of yours and this Bud fellow came around, right? And look at the reinigen kid. He actually calls me occasionally and he has a handle on his issues. Do I have to mention Holly?"

Nick shook his head. He was quite aware of those little stories, how they had ended well. Even Frank Rabe, the jagerbar, had contacted him. His wife might be in jail and his son was on probation, but he had thanked him, had offered him, should he ever needed a lawyer, to come to him. It had been a shock to Monroe when Nick had told him. Creatures didn't offer like this to a Grimm!

Rabe had.

Nick had been too stunned to really comprehend how deeply he was affecting people and creatures around him.

Now he had become the companion of a regnant and he was sure that would come out sooner or later. While the creatures weren't generally aware of regnants, there were the tales and legends. And if Renard chose to reveal himself, he would reveal Nick's affiliation with him, too.

It was a political labyrinth and Nick preferred not to maneuver it at all. The web spun between him and Renard and him and Monroe was only the beginning.

"Nick."

Monroe's soft tone drew him out of his thoughts. An arm drew him closer to his partner and he rested his head against one solid shoulder, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days again.

"Not your fault, Nick," the blutbad murmured into his hair. "You didn't kill him."

No, Marie had. And he might never know the reason why. It was part of the problem.

They stayed like this for a very long time, then Monroe pulled back and pushed the cereal bowl at him. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

Nick smiled thankfully at him, drawing this stunned look that quickly melted into a warm expression of love from Monroe.


	9. Chapter 9

In a way it helped that others treated him normally; others who knew he was a Grimm. Like Clari Woods, the hare who owned the small corner store where Nick frequently got his coffee to go or his sweet pastries. He couldn't share case information with her, not even Grimm stuff, but her quiet smiles, her easy way around him, helped healing.

"You can't expect them not to fear you, detective," she said when he lingered after paying for his coffee, sipping at it. "I feared the Grimm, too."

"I didn't threaten her in any way, Clari. At all!"

"It doesn't matter. You're a Grimm."

At his despaired look, Clari held out a chocolate bar, nodding at him to take it.

Nick did. Dropping a dollar on the counter with a frown in her direction.

"Nick," she chastised. "This is from one friend to another, food for the soul."

He stared at her, rolling the 'friend' over in his head with astonishment. Clari just smiled at him, still ignoring the dollar bill.

"Thanks," he finally said quietly.

Nick felt better for the rest of the day. He couldn't forget the Davenports' fear, but Clari's declaration of friendship eased it a little more.

The dollar bill had remained in the shop.

 

He only once ran into Bud at the store as he was buying a sixpack, and the biber froze for a moment, eyes widening, then he took a deep breath and nodded at the Grimm.

"Hey," Nick said calmly.

Bud licked his lips and managed a brief 'Good evening, detective', then he quickly left.

At least he wasn't running or begging for his life.

 

Becoming aware of so many creatures around him, Nick started to quietly observe whether or not they noticed who he was. Strangely enough, not all did. Not even when he confronted them in his role as a police officer, taking witness statements, asking around for possible witnesses, or passing them in the station.

Some did realize who he was after a while. It was this subtle shift in their faces, this second of hesitation, of knowing and trying not to show fear. Those who were more or a predatory nature sized him up but never attacked outright.

 

Monroe convinced him to go to a concert by Roddy Geiger's school. Nick wasn't much of a classical music enthusiast, but he enjoyed himself and he enjoyed watching Roddy play. The young reinigen had truly grown up and he was a gifted teen. Monroe looked enthralled, swept away by the music, and he gushed about how Roddy was insanely talented and would go places.

The young reinigen just ducked his head and blushed.

 

Yes, it helped, but the dark knowledge of such senseless murders had Nick frequent the trailer more often than not, taking to reading more of Marie's journals, but her reports were cool and detached and almost clinical.

He was learning to read between the lines, though. He learned how to tell when she had killed.

Too often, he thought. All too often.

 

He didn't see the Davenports again.

* * *

Nick had never taken into consideration that despite all that Renard was, he wasn't immortal or invulnerable.

As was shown when the suspect in a murder investigation got the jump on the arresting officers, wrestled the gun from one of them, and started to fire wildly around the precinct.

One bullet hit Renard.

In the stomach. And Nick felt it like a punch to his own.

Another lodged in the captain's shoulder.

Nick nearly screamed out in pain as he mirrored the injury. He felt the ebb and flow of energies, felt the regnant's pain in his head. He tried to push it away and suddenly it was gone, like a switched had been flipped.

Not his doing. Renard's.

Shit!

He was at his superior officer's side and trying to stop the blood flow without thinking about it. For a second he saw burnt orange eyes, saw the shift in the human features as the regnant lost control, then he touched the other man and the façade slammed back in.

"You're shielding," he whispered harshly.

Renard's eyes were intense with the pain he felt, one hand clamping around Nick's wrist, leaving bloody imprints.

There was controlled chaos around them, shouting and yelling and the panic as civilians tried to get to safety.

Nick looked into the green eyes, felt the bond between them shiver and slip-slide into shock. He caught it unconsciously, felt the regnant, felt Renard, knew he was holding his life in his hands.

And he held it, feeling everything.

 

 _The bullet felt like someone had stuck a glowing hot nail into his ribs and was currently twisting it around. Blood was flowing in steady streams and soaking his shirt._

 _Nick?_

 _I'm here. Calm down. I'm here._

 _He was fading, aware that this one piece of lead had hurt him more than anything ever before._

 _Not prepared._

 _He hadn't been prepared for this._

 _I'm here…_

 

It was like raw glass, biting into his soul, trying to tear him apart with the pain. He swallowed his own discomfort, aware that the pain wasn't his. Nick wouldn't let the other go; he wouldn't let the other mind separate from him.

Even when the paramedics came and he physically had to let go.

Even when they wheeled him off and Hank stood next to him, shock written on his features.

Even when control was reasserted over the PD.

Even when he was waiting outside surgery with others.

Even when the doctor told them it had been touch and go, but the captain was strong and they expected him to make a full recovery.

Nick never let go, aware of the tension, aware of the exchange between their souls, and while he functioned normally to the world who didn't know him, Monroe noticed.

Dark eyes, with a shimmer of red, knowing and accepting. The blutbad drew him into an embrace, kissed his temple, let his solidity ground Nick in a way nothing else had ever done.

It was why they were both in the hospital room after visiting hours were over not much later, slipping past the nurses and doctors. Monroe assured him he could hear anyone approach, that they had a little in here, and that he would give Nick what he needed timewise.

Renard was sleeping, heavily drugged, hooked up to machines and his stomach bandaged. Nick just watched him, Monroe at his side, and when the blutbad slipped his hand into Nick, he curled his fingers around the long digits, glad for the support.

"He'll pull through," Monroe only said.

Nick nodded. "I know."

The blutbad nuzzled one temple.

 

He was still holding on, strong and unrelenting.

tbc...


	10. Chapter 10

Renard woke to the feeling of someone being with him, very close, hovering. He was confused as to what had happened, his mind fuzzy, and his body didn't seem to respond to his brain's commands.

Spikes of pain radiated from his injured shoulder and abdomen, and he didn't even want to think about the other parts of his body that felt terribly bruised and battered.

The presence drew closer, calming him as panic flashed because he couldn't remember, soothing his fear.

Someone touched him, drawing gentle fingers through his short hair.

The presence inside him came closer and he drew an immense comfort from his counterpart's nearness. His mind was a mess and he couldn't really think straight. He had one anchor and that was Nick Burckhardt.

"I'm here," the Grimm murmured. "I'm here."

Renard didn't know how long it lasted, but the connection was a warm, wondrous world, energizing him, revitalizing their bond on all levels. He sank into the depth of natural sleep, safe in the knowledge that his counterpart was there.

 _Thank you_ , was the last that ran through his tired mind. _For being here._

"Where else would I be?"

* * *

Nick met Marea when he came to visit their captain just before the end of visiting hours, after his shift, declining Hank's invitation to join him and Wu for a drink. She was in Renard's room, tall and beautiful, raven-haired and about Nick's age, so perfect that even without his ability to look beyond the everyday face, he would have called her unnatural.

At least for a Grimm. Hank would probably have told him differently and invited her for a drink as well. The man had been married four times and still hadn't learned a thing.

Gray eyes looked at Nick and he knew she was a hexenbiest. He had noticed an increase in his recognition talent when it came to creatures. With this one, she almost voluntarily dropped the façade for a second, showing her nastier side, and briefly inclined her head; almost like a bow.

"Grimm," she said calmly.

He frowned at her. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The need to protect the injured man pushed forward, having him on edge, twitching to haul her away from Renard.

"My name is Marea. And this is my job."

His frowned deepened and he almost unconsciously slid to the side of the hospital bed where Renard was sleeping. As if he had felt the Grimm's approach, his eyes opened a crack.

"Nick," he whispered.

Nick smiled at the injured man. "Sir."

Playing the game. If anyone came in here he was simply just dropping by his captain's room, checking in on him.

Renard looked at the hexenbiest. "Marea."

She inclined her head.

"Marea is, for everyone else in the world, my sister, Nick," Renard told the Grimm.

Nick knew he was looking as stunned as he felt. The regnant smiled tiredly.

"It's the only way to gain access and do my job," the hexenbiest replied. "The regnant has no family and no next of kin. It's a long-standing cover."

So that was how she had been let in. It made sense and it was logical, since there was no other family. And, Nick told himself, setting a subordinate up as the next of kin would raise too many eyebrows and alarms. Renard's smile grew a little as he followed the dawning realization that was most likely prominently written on Nick's face.

"You need to keep your distance, Nick," he said softly, fighting not to fall asleep again.

He couldn't come back. At least not without a damn good reason. And never alone or outside visiting hours.

Marea glanced at her watch, a delicate piece on a thin, golden chain around her wrist.

"I'll give you the necessary time," she only said quietly, then slipped out of the room.

Nick blinked. "What…?"

The regnant carefully curled his fingers around the closest wrist to him, startling the Grimm. There was a brief moment when the exhausted green eyes asked wordlessly, filled with longing and need, and then Nick gave in.

It wasn't like he would deny the other man this. It would be cruel and serve no purpose, other than to torture him. And he had been there, all of him, through the bond, just two days ago, feeling the regnant's semi-conscious struggles, soothing him.

It was like a soft wave of emotions and sensations passing between them, and the Grimm turned fully to the regnant, clasping the cool, long-fingered hand.

"Thank you," Renard said, voice just as soft.

"What for?"

"Holding me."

The lifeline. The unconscious grasp Nick had made for the essence that was the creature. He squeezed the hand he held.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Nothing you can give me right now."

"Renard…"

"Your presence helps, Nick. A lot. Never doubt it."

"But?"

"My experience with a companion is as deep as yours is with a regnant, Grimm. All I have are tales and writing." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I just know that right now I feel better than the last time I woke. Your presence helps."

Nick stared at the man, stunned and unable to respond to that statement appropriately. That had been more than open.

"Uh, sir?"

Amusement reflected in Renard's eyes when he looked at his detective again. Nick's reaction had been an automatic one, falling back on a defense. Superior – subordinate.

"I'll be out of here soon. I'll be okay, Nick. Go home. See to your mate. And yourself."

Nick's logical brain knew he couldn't do more, couldn't follow the instinct clamoring inside him to stay, curl up close to the injured creature, help him kick-start his healing. The instinct hissed and spat at the logical side.

"Go. Please."

Marea's return signaled that he truly had to do so.

"Ten minutes," she said. "Then the nurse will make her rounds." She looked into the gray eyes of the Grimm, face composed and serious. "I will care for him, Grimm. You can believe me."

And he did. Because she was loyal to her death. Nick nodded once, then released Renard's hand and had to force himself to leave.

Damn.

It was just as bad as if this was Monroe, injured and defenseless, in a hospital.

He now had two very important people in his life, one mated to him, the other bound to his soul. And he felt strongly for both of them.

As if one complication hadn't been enough.

As if being a Grimm hadn't been enough!

Then again, being a Grimm had given him Monroe and now Renard.

Life wasn't easy… Nope.

* * *

"Did you know Renard had a sister?" Hank asked when they were going over case notes.

Nick smirked. "You met her?"

"Yeah. Good looking." His partner grinned.

"You'd really hit on your captain's sister?"

"Hey," Hank spread his arms, an easy grin on his lips, "I'm only a man. And only looking, if you know what I'm saying. Don't tell me you didn't look."

Nick gave him a grin in return, though Griffin would never know that the way he had looked at the supposed sister was completely different.

Ever since his break-up with Juliette, Hank had tried to set him up again, but Nick had declined again and again. Finally Hank had given him this knowing look and simply nodded.

"Whenever you're ready," he had simply said.

It could be taken either way. Whenever he was ready to date again or whenever he felt ready to introduce Hank to the new person on his side. Hank knew he was bisexual, had never had a problem with it, and Nick didn't think he would make a deal of who he was sleeping with. But he tried to keep his Grimm life from his work life, and the rest of the world. He had protected Juliette by not fighting for her when she had left, and he was protecting Hank by not telling him who Monroe was to him. Aside from a CI or consultant or whatever.

"Just keep your distance," Nick advised now. "Not sure you want to step in it that badly."

Hank chuckled. "Look, don't touch, got it. I was actually more thinking about you, man."

"What do I have to do with it?"

"Getting you back on that horse. Figuratively speaking. I mean, it's been a while since Juliette and…" Hank raised his brows.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Nick laughed.

"Ah, unless," his partner went on, "there is already someone. Right?" Another suggestive look.

"Hank, drop it."

"Aha! I knew it. Anyone I know?"

"Hank…"

"It's been going on for a while, right? 'Cause I noticed." Hank tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Not from the precinct. You don't date at work."

Nick rolled his eyes. He had told his partner so once.

Hank grinned. "Secretive, Nick. Very secretive."

"Just drop it, okay?"

It got him a chuckle. "I see. But you know I won't give up. Got some suspicions."

Nick raised an eyebrow.

Hank leaned back and smirked. He waited.

Nick kept his silence.

"Ah," Griffin finally said, nodding sagely. "That's it then. Well, good for you."

He turned back to the case files and Nick sighed, shaking his head. Maybe his relationship with Monroe would come out one day, but he wasn't afraid of it. He wasn't going to broadcast it either, though.

Things were just fine as they were.

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

Spending a night with Renard, at his home, hadn't been the plan. The man had been released after a week, the doctors very pleased with how the healing progressed. The whole department had been relieved. Many had been at the hospital, a reason why Nick had only come once and never stayed too long, though he had been worried. He felt the regnant's weakness, he knew he was needed, but he couldn't just hang around without good reason.

Another precinct was investigating the shooting. Things had gone back to as normal as could be, but Renard was missed. His quiet, cool and competent way of handling the PD was well-known and very much appreciated.

So Nick found himself on the regnant's doorstep not much later, both men looking at each other, aware what the Grimm's presence meant. Nick could have ignored the need, he could have disregarded the pull, he could have simply let Renard recover on his own.

He hadn't and he wasn't. He still didn't know everything this connection involved, but he was pretty sure that denying the regnant the counterpart's presence would have been cruel, bordering on sadistic, now that Renard was injured.

Renard let him in, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "Where is your mate?"

The man looked bad. Pale and haggard, the pain still very present in his eyes and every line of his body. His injured shoulder – the bullet had only torn a painful, deep groove into the flesh - was in a sling. The hand was slightly curled against the injured stomach. Nick knew the gesture; he had employed it as well when he had been shot months ago.

"Monroe is at home. He actually kicked my butt over here, told me to take care of you. It seems this is a strain on both of us."

Him and Renard. Because Monroe had smelled it, had sensed it, and had told him to do what a counterpart needed to do.

And that he trusted him. That he loved him.

"Where's your 'sister'?" Nick asked in return, raising his brows.

Renard smiled. "I don't need her any more. She has her own life."

It still sounded very formal. As if someone was listening in on them.

"I thought she lived to serve you," came the sharp remark.

"Then your books are wrong. She is loyal to me, but she doesn't live just for me." The regnant's voice was mild, almost amused. "Why are you here?"

Nick tilted his head a little. "I think it's obvious. You need me."

The regnant looked surprised.

"I've come to realize that your need isn't Monroe's need, and vice versa. He has accepted your role in my life. I've accepted your presence in mine."

Renard smiled, the pale features, still showing the strain of the shooting and the hospital stay, easing a little.

"Have you?" he asked mildly.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Stop playing, Renard. I know you need me."

It got him another smile. "You are my greatest weakness, Grimm," he said softly.

"And you still need me around to replenish your energies," Nick stated, aware it was the truth.

Once bound together, the regnant relied heavily on the companion-counterpart. Renard needed him to recover from this and Nick wasn't so blind and stupid not to see it. He also knew it entailed nothing more than physical proximity. If it wouldn't rile up Monroe, Renard could spend a few days at their home, but it was a threshold he didn't want to consider crossing.

So the Grimm was at the regnant's home, his safe haven, and he felt the power within the walls, like fine lines of energy he might just see if he squinted.

"If I could have, I would have stayed at the hospital."

"I understand, Nick."

"And now I'm here," the young detective continued.

He felt it the moment Renard gave in. It was like something finally broke between them, let the walls crumble, and the regnant accepted the help.

The raw feeling inside Nick eased. It had been like missing a limb for the past days, unable to shake off the sensation of loss and guilt, unable to pinpoint where it all came from exactly. Like something very important in his life was fading and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Monroe had called him thick-headed and slow for his behavior.

"It's him," the blutbad had pointed out. "Renard. And that companion-thing between you."

And he had been right.

It was really weird to have his mate push him into coming here, but Nick had given up on thinking about weird a long time ago.

It was just another part of his life now.

"It's vital for him," Monroe had added.

"How do you figure?"

"Dude, duh! Haven't you listened to that part of the files? Complementary parts and all? You balance him, Nick. Go and balance."

He had simply stared at his partner, then kissed him hard and fast, leaving not much later.

It had taken a blutbad to point out what was wrong!

And how wrong was that?


	12. Chapter 12

He hadn't really intended to spend the night, but part of him had suspected it might end like this. Another part had scoffed at the notion.

But here he was.

Nick had decided on delivery since hadn't found many edible items in the kitchen, and Renard had told him to get what he wanted.

"You're not much of a cook," the Grimm remarked.

Renard, leaning against the wall, looking like he should be sitting down, smiled slightly. "No."

"Take out?"

"Mostly. Restaurants need a reason to exist, too."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't tell me you can cook."

Nick closed the last cabinet door – nothing to be found – and shrugged. "Actually, I can. So can Monroe. He's perfected the vegetarian art of cooking. So… take-out right now?"

Renard nodded at the phone. "Speed dial. One is pizza, two is Chinese… there is a list."

Nick shook his head. "Go sit down before I have to pick you off the floor. I'll order something."

"Yes, sir," Renard answered, eyes reflecting his teasing amusement.

 

They ate pizza in front of the TV.

Nick's cell rang halfway through the first quarter of a game. Renard raised a very eloquent eyebrow when Monroe demanded to know if everything was okay, if Nick needed him.

"Nanny," he mouthed.

Nick gave him a quick smile, then reassured his mate that yes, he was okay. And yes, Renard was okay, too. And no, he didn't need him. And yes, they were doing just fine.

"Possessive," the regnant remarked.

"Pot, kettle," the Grimm shot back.

It was strange how easy their interaction was, how different Renard was from the captain at the precinct, how familiar and normal this seemed, despite the fact that it shouldn't. Nick felt the calm waves, the warmth and acceptance, the need, all coming from the regnant, and he was reacting to it.

Renard dozed off after a while and Nick debated whether or not to get him to bed, but then decided against it. The taller man was stretched out on the recamier part of the couch, pillows and all, and it looked comfortable enough. So he finished watching the game, then checked the house if everything was locked, his trained eye taking in so many little details.

Like the fact that the front rooms were for show, the upstairs was more private. He stood in the study, gazing at the assorted knick-knacks on the shelves of an old bookcase, read over the cracked spines of books and tomes. They looked like special books, always brought along when he had moved. From Europe to America, from wherever he had first arrived to Portland, from the first house to this one.

There were hardly any personal photos, just pictures on the wall, of landscapes, of abstract art. No family. Nothing.

Nick felt like a trespasser, but simultaneously it was like being… home. This was the regnant's inner sanctum; and he was the counterpart. It was his place to be here, he told himself. Because this man was bound to him for life. He wanted to know more, he had to know more.

The young detective pushed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, undecided on what he should really feel, if he should feel anything like this at all. It was weird to be in his superior officer's home, at night, the other man downstairs and sleeping.

Pulling out his cell he sent Monroe a brief text that things were fine, that Renard was asleep, that he would keep an eye on him.

Monroe replied to take care and call if he needed him.

'Love you,' Nick texted, smiling a little to himself.

Sometimes he felt like a lovesick teenager. And it felt good. It was good to be just Nick for a moment. Not the Grimm, not the counterpart, not the detective. Just himself, the man who was in love, who actually wanted to be with his partner, even if that was a Grimm aspect, too.

"Geez," he whispered, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hair.

He was juggling a lot by now. And he had a lot of responsibility. Sometimes it was overwhelming. Like right now, as he realized just what he was doing, where he was, who was downstairs.

The phone vibrated and he picked up.

"Did you hit your head, dude?" Monroe asked gruffly.

"Monroe…"

"You want me to come?" the blutbad asked.

That had the Grimm blink. "Uh, what?"

"Sure you didn't bump your head?"

"Monroe, you don't have to come. I'm fine. Renard's sleeping."

This had been a huge offer. Monumental, actually. Monroe might have accepted Nick's connection to Renard, but offering to drive to the regnant's home? Wow…

"Nick?" the blutbad asked calmly. "Really? You're sure?"

"Yes. I just… I'll be home tomorrow. And I do love you."

"Go and babysit, Grimm," Monroe rumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Nick laughed softly and put away the cell.

He finished his rounds and settled on the couch again. Renard was deeply asleep, looking younger, with his shields down, and Nick's protective instincts flared. He picked up a woven afghan and draped it over the man.

Then he kicked up his legs and settled back into the way too comfortable couch. Nick exchanged a few texts with Monroe, smiling fondly at the remarks of his partner.

It was where he fell asleep.

* * *

Renard was the first to wake and he felt worlds better than just the other day. Sure, he still was sore. He had been shot just a week ago. His stomach felt a little tight, his shoulder protested movement, but he didn't mind. The regnant was replenishing his energies, which had been leeched into healing his wounds.

He blinked into the dim light filtering through the drawn curtains, aware that it was quite early in the morning, and he was hyper-aware of the second presence in the room.

Nick lay on the couch, deeply asleep, looking young and relaxed and very much at ease. One arm hung down the side, the other was curled over his stomach.

Having his counterpart so close had helped immensely and it had kick-started his abilities to repair the damage done to his body. Nick had no idea how deep this went, but he probably had a suspicion.

Sitting up, wincing back a soft groan of pain, eyes never leaving the peacefully relaxed features, Renard allowed himself the luxury of just studying the man who was both his strength and his weakness. Nick Burckhardt, Grimm, police detective, mate to a blutbad. He was a handsome man, with a naturally pale skin, dark hair and eyes that were incredibly expressive. Now he also featured a night's worth of stubble.

Renard had known Nick fresh from the Academy, had seen him develop into a very competent officer and finally a detective. A Grimm in the making, still without the trigger, but he had had talent.

Hank Griffin, his senior partner, had remarked on that a few times, Nick was good. As a Grimm he had the chance to become even better.

Gray eyes were suddenly open and meeting his own gaze, softening as the Grimm realized there was no danger. Renard felt an incredible thrill and pride at the fact that Nick had learned so fast, that his instincts were firing up, that he had this sense of knowing there was someone so close.

The younger man sat up, those intense eyes on him, checking him.

"Good morning," Renard said calmly.

"Morning. You okay?"

"Perfect."

It got him a grimace. "Liar."

The regnant chuckled and got up, gently supporting his still sore stomach. Internal injuries were knitting together, the skin would be the last to look only mildly scarred, but it would take time. His shoulder was getting better in leaps. He didn't think he would need another dose of painkillers.

"You are getting good, Nick."

"It has nothing to do with what's between us and more with the fact that I know getting shot isn't fun and games for creatures either. You spent a week in the hospital," he reminded him, dark brows lowering over expressive eyes. "First clue."

"And the second?"

"You fell asleep almost immediately after food."

"My healing capabilities are returning."

"Because of me."

He studied the smaller man, feeling the surge of warmth and worry and care. "Yes, because of you."

"And like another bull-headed idiot I know you didn't even ask." Nick looked exasperated.

"Do you trust me?" Renard asked.

Nick blinked, confused. "What?"

"Do you trust me?"

Silence greeted that statement and something inside the older man twinged. It had nothing to do with the injury. It was this... disappointment that despite what they already had, the trust issue remained. He schooled his features and nodded, then walked past the sleep-tousled Grimm and into the kitchen. Coffee sounded very good right now. A shower later sounded even better.

Nick was suddenly in his face, hand on his chest, palm flat against his sternum and halting his steps. Renard felt the flare of emotional energy, felt the connection thrum and vibrate, felt the very Grimm for a second.

It had him nearly gasp and his eyes widened a fraction. Like a caffeine boost, like a junky getting his fix… and wasn't that a disturbing thought? No, he wasn't a junky, but he was addicted to the Grimm. Nick was perfection.

"I'm here," Nick stated levelly. "I came to you, no back-up, and I stayed."

"It's not like I would have my wicked way with you," Renard said mildly.

Nick glowered at him.

"But do you trust me?"

A muscle jumped. "Yes," he finally said. "I trust you."

Renard looked into the slate gray eyes, at the Grimm who was currently very much in charge, and something shivered through him. Power and resiliency and strength beyond what he would have alone.

"You trust me," he said, voicing his thoughts of wonder almost unconsciously. There was even a hint of wonder. "Even though I had Marie killed."

Nick swallowed, the pain of loss bright and sharp for a moment. "Yes," he said, voice still strong.

And it was true. Renard was breathless for a second, feeling the last few pieces of his soul slide neatly together, felt the parts that were Nick, felt the resonance of the blutbad claim. It was elating… it made him want to hug the other to him, feel every line of his body, feel the resonance of their closeness.

The Grimm watched him, body language relaxed... trusting... aware of himself, of Renard, of the bond between them. Waiting.

"Do you trust me?" Nick broke the silence.

Renard gave him a perplexed look.

"What we have, this connection as counterparts, it might come out. Monroe can sense you on me. Others might, too."

"He is your mate. Of course he can sense the bond," the regnant replied. "Blutbaden bond, too. For life. His connection to you has him aware of changes in you, Nick."

Nick's expression didn't waver. "What about others? Can you trust me to keep your secret safe?"

"Yes," was the calm reply. "This is only between us."

And it felt wonderful. It was like basking in warmth and sunlight and everything he had ever dreamed of as a teenager when he had heard stories of the Grimm companions. He had it now, and more.

His claim on the Grimm was finally complete.

Nick closed the distance between them, the lines of his body more tense, his face resolute.

Renard could almost read his thoughts and amusement raced through him. He dared to reach out and run a gentle caress over the pale skin.

"I'm not going to bite you or mark you, Nick. My claim is already complete. You gave me what I needed. It's done. Besides," he added, long fingers trailing over the loose, gray long-sleeve shirt, coming to rest over the hidden scar the blutbad had left, "you bear the mark of your mate. I doubt the blutbad would tolerate another obvious one."

"His name is Monroe," Nick said firmly, eyes on Renard's.

The regnant rested his hand over the scar. "Monroe," he repeated calmly, accepting the correction.

And then he stepped back, breaking the intense contact, feeling it even out into the gentle waves that lapped between them. Nick watched him.

"You still need me here," he stated.

"No. You need to go home to your mate."

"Monroe is quite aware of where I am, who I'm with, and that things are okay. You, on the other hand, need me right now. I might not have this whole juggling two bonds down yet, but I know that much: you're not okay and me leaving would upset what just happened."

Very perceptive, Renard thought. Getting so much better, learning so fast, and so willing to work with it all.

"I'm only on call," Nick went on, driving his point home. "It's Friday. The weekend's my time off."

"I'm not asking you to spend all of that time here, Nick."

"No, you aren't, and I won't. Balance means equality for all. Monroe is working on accepting all of this, too."

"And he wouldn't come here." Renard nodded.

The Grimm smiled. "Nope. At least not now. Since this is a life-time thing, it might one day happen."

Renard snorted. "Hardly." But the little thrill at the 'life-time thing' had him nearly shiver.

The phone rang almost on cue and Nick dug it out of his pocket, smiling as he saw the caller ID.

"Hey, Monroe," he greeted the very mate he had been talking about. "Yes, still fine. No, really."

Renard walked to the kitchen counter and poured himself a coffee, then leaned back and watched his Grimm as Nick talked with his mate, reassuring him things were okay, that he would see to it that Renard was okay, that he would call if anything at all tried to stalk or attack them.

Not that creatures were aware of who Renard was, but they knew of the Grimm. Someone might just mistake the whole situation as an easy way to take out a dangerous factor in the creature world. Renard felt a dangerous rumble rise in his chest, a sign of how frayed his control really still was, how much Nick had been right that he was still needed.

And from the look in those damn eyes he was very aware of Renard's train of thought.

Ah yes, his weak spot. His weakness. He had never had one.

"I'm not without protection, Nick," he finally said. "Go to your mate, come back later if you want to."

Nick scowled.

"Nick, go," he repeated, voice laced with a silent command.

The Grimm's face reflected stubbornness.

"It's a request. On Monroe's behalf," Renard went on, carefully studying a man who could be very dangerous. Nick was a Grimm and yes, the regnant was very much aware that this meant he was a predator in the world of the creatures as well. "Your mate needs you right now, too."

"Monroe and I can handle a day apart," the younger man snapped.

"As can you and I. Your presence last night was enough. Thank you."

The scowl deepened and Renard would have smiled if that wouldn't get him even more anger. So he kept the smile to himself, simply feeling the amusement and the warmth grow.

"Nick, I'm not ordering you as your superior officer. I'm also not playing the regnant card."

"Good," was the cool answer.

"I'm simply asking you to consider your partner, Nick."

"I am. He's a grown blutbad."

"Go. Now."

Nick stared at him, eyes those of the Grimm, then he finally muttered something about stubborn creatures and turned away.

Renard reached out and caught one arm, aware that he might be trespassing. Nick was trying to protect him and he was pushing his counterpart away.

"Nick," he said, voice gentle. His fingers curled around one arm, sliding to the wrist. "I'm fine. Monroe might be fine, but he needs to reassure himself of that."

The gray eyes were to drown in and Renard wanted to wrap his arms around the other man, hold him, reassure him that everything was perfectly okay.

Nick took that thought out of his head, as if he was truly telepathic, and suddenly Renard was wrapped in a gentle embrace that didn't jar his injuries too badly. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, then carefully stepped back.

"Go," he repeated once more.

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

Nick went, but not because he had been almost-ordered to. He drove home, took a shower, changed his clothes, and he wasn't really surprised when his next trip had him over at Monroe's. The blutbad yanked the door open, staring at him like he was an apparition, and his nostrils flared.

For a tense moment they just looked at each other, then Monroe's shoulders relaxed.

"Why are you here?" he asked when he let his mate inside.

"And a good morning to you, too."

It got him lowered brows over very intense eyes. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Renard kicked me out."

"Bad sex?" Monroe teased.

Nick grimaced, but he let himself get pulled into a kiss. It showed the level of trust and acceptance that Monroe could joke about something like it.

"No, sex with you could never be bad," Monroe added in a low, seductive voice.

The exchange of soft kisses, lips sliding against each other, had Nick hum in appreciation. He pulled Monroe close, enjoying the full body contact, enjoying the man in his arms.

"You going back?" Monroe asked when they finally came up for air.

"Hm, probably."

"Imperative?"

"Worry."

It got him a grin. "Mother-hen."

"No, reason. Renard might be a regnant and he might have hexenbiester at his beck and call, but he needs the counterpart to trigger his healing into overdrive. You could tell it from that one night." Nick regarded him seriously. "Are you really okay with that?"

Strong hands caressed his back, reassuring and only slightly possessive. "Yes, I am," Monroe answered truthfully. "I think the inner blutbad is learning." He smirked a little.

"Thank you," was the still very serious reply.

Monroe carded his fingers into Nick's hair, pulling him into a kiss once more. "I trust you, Nick. Completely," he whispered when they separated. "And I'm starting to really trust him. I can't change what happened, who you are, who you always were."

"Yours," Nick replied.

The shiver was more than just confirmation. "Mine," Monroe said roughly.

* * *

Adalind tried not to let her worry show, but the fact that her regnant was currently alone and injured was plainly written on her face. She had come to the powerful creature's house to check on things and had found him without the Grimm; without the necessary presence of his counterpart.

"I am fine," Renard repeated, scowling at her.

She met his eyes, shoulders squared, face impassive.

"It was an accident, Adalind, not a hit or an act of terror. I'm very well able to defend myself should any creature think I'd make a good target. There aren't that many."

"Another regnant might try and invade your territory."

"No one would dare," Renard stated calmly.

And they wouldn't. Regnant's were rare and those in existence took to a region and stayed. There was no sense in usurping any other city.

She didn't look pleased, her instincts flaring at his perceived weakened state.

"Marea's identity would let her stay with you, no questions asked."

"No."

"Sir…"

"I said no."

Her displeasure was no longer hidden, but she simply inclined her head, then left.

Renard sighed and settled back in his chair. He was tired, the healing taking a lot out of him, and fighting with a hexenbiest was even more draining. Adalind meant well, but he didn't need anyone in the house with him.

Only one would be tolerated right now and that special person was with his mate.

Renard scrubbed a hand over his face and decided on a shower. He really wanted to lose the hospital smell.

* * *

Nick packed an overnight bag and returned to Renard's place after lunch with Monroe, quite aware he was featuring a very prominent mark on his neck. If regnants had a sense of smell as finely tuned as blutbaden, Renard would be able to tell what had happened within a minute.

Then again, the mark spoke loud and clearly. And anyway, it wasn't as if Nick wanted to hide his relationship from the other.

He had picked up a few food items, things he would be able to throw together for a decent meal.

Learning inner blutbad my ass, he thought fondly as he touched the mark on his neck. Part of his mate was still trying to mark his territory and he knew just how Renard would react: amusement.

 

Of course he did.

Coupled with curiosity as to why Nick intended to stay, despite the fact that the regnant was healing much better.

"Shut up and listen to your companion," the Grimm only said and dumped his bag in the guest room he had discovered when he had prowled through the house yesterday.

The amusement grew and it was actually a relief to see the other man smile. The façade of the captain was gone; this was the man underneath the public face, the creature, the regnant, his soul bonded.

Nick felt strangely at ease with the fact, with the assigned status. Maybe not with everything it encompassed, but mostly with what it made him. a regnant's companion-counterpart.

 

"So, am I going to meet the parents?" Nick asked lightly, holding out a box of Chinese. It had been so much easier than cobbling anything together.

Renard chuckled as he took it. "Doubtful."

The Grimm frowned, cocking his head a little.

"They stayed in France when I left the old world," Renard elaborated. "There has been no contact since. Regnants don't have much of a family life. We are very self-sufficient. I have siblings, though."

"Big brother?" came the careful question.

"Actually, yes."

It got him a soft groan. He smiled again.

"There won't be any brotherly threats or questions as to your intentions, Nick."

"Really." Doubt swung in the other man's voice.

"I'm not expected to continue the line," the regnant pointed out, smiling more at the startled-panicky look of his counterpart. "Especially not with a companion."

"But there were pairs."

"Yes, two. And they never had offspring. Some creatures, like the Ziegenvolk, pair successfully with humans. Others can't. And regnants are one of them. Add to it that a Grimm's abilities are inherited and the result would be devastating. My siblings have taken care of procreation."

Nick nodded slowly. "Well, it's not like it would work anyway. Two men." He made a vague gesture. "And Monroe and I won't have that problem either." He was silent for a moment. "Which means the line ends with me."

Renard studied the narrow face, the thoughtful gray eyes.

"No," he finally told the Grimm. "A Grimm's power never fades. It seeks out a new host. Your bloodline extends far deeper than your family or Marie Kessler's. There are aunts and cousins  
many generations removed and one of their heirs might inherit the power. Or someone else completely."

"Aunt Marie said there weren't many left of us."

"Maybe in America. But the Grimms originally came from Europe and they spread out everywhere. There will always be Grimms, Nick. You're part of this, always have been, always will be. You are a necessary balance."

In a way it took the pressure off, though it wouldn't make him any less careful.

Renard one-handedly searched through the cartons for the noodles and finally found what he had been looking for, digging in. They finished their meal and Nick checked his cell for messages, then did an almost automatic sweep around the house.

The amusement in Renard's eyes was by now a given and he grimaced.

"Habit."

"Apparently. I'm touched, Nick, but I can protect myself. Even injured."

"Not taking any chances."

Renard silently let him continue his check while he cleared the table.

 

Nick found it rather easy to talk to the regnant now that they were in the same room for a longer time, with no interruptions from his fellow officers, or creatures out for a Grimm's blood. He got to know a lot more about the powerful creatures and he asked questions. Renard answered them willingly.

"Knowing you're not human… I would have thought you'd be a fox creature," Nick remarked.

"Because of the name Renard," the regnant stated, nodding that he understood.

"Kinda, yeah."

"You mate's name has nothing to do with his true nature either."

Nick shrugged. That much was true, too.

"Renard is an old name. Old money, old bloodline, old nobility. My parents took it as their human family name me because they favored the French 'Reynard', my grandmother would have liked 'Reinhard', and in the end it became Renard. My brother is a 'Renault' on paper. No fox in me at all."

"And no first name?"

"We all have full human names, Nick. Some just decide not to use them aside from official purposes."

Like Monroe. Nick knew from the first arrest he had made, such a long time ago, that he was registered as Eddie Monroe, master clockmaker, resident of Portland, no priors. He simply never used his first name and Nick hd gotten so accustomed to calling him 'Monroe', he didn't give it a second thought.

"So you are Sean Renard?"

"Sean Henri Michele Charles August Gerard. They had fun," Renard chuckled. "But Sean is what I prefer."

Nick looked at him. "Sean," he said slowly, feeling strange addressing his superior officer like that.

The green eyes reflected laughter. "Nick," he replied.

It felt really, really… abnormal.

"I need to get used to this," the Grimm murmured.

Renard – Sean - still smiled. "Stick to 'Renard'. I don't mind."

Nick tilted his head. "So what is in you? What are you?"

"Fairy tales would call us lindwurm. Maybe dragon or dragon kings. Regnants never had tails, though. And we don't guard treasures or want a sacrificial virgin."

Nick smirked. "Too late for that anyway."

Renard laughed and it sounded clearly humorous. "Way too late, I'm sure. As for fox-likes or fuchsartige, yes, you might run into them. Like blutbaden and jagerbars. The creature community is wide-spread and diverse."

"So I've noticed. I didn't think that that many would be in one area."

"Portland is a regnant's territory. There is a measure of law and order here. More now because of you." Renard gave him a pointed look. "Other cities or areas are wild; law of the strongest, the most powerful. While perps get caught and tried and sentenced, it's never because they were discovered as who and what they are, just that they are stupid enough to get arrested."

Nick leaned back, thoughtful. "Creatures migrate here?" he asked.

"Yes and no. Word travels. Word of a regnant, who is mythical to so many, and word of a Grimm. They fear you by your name, but word of mouth has it you are different."

"Oh, great," he muttered.

"It's not a bad thing, Nick."

"It just means more work for me." Nick grimaced. "Why do you look for companions if I'm a weak spot?" he changed topics.

"You're needed, Nick."

"What for?"

"Balance. You have no idea what this means to me. I didn't know what it would be like either."

Nick regarded the other man, still not back to his usual form, still a bit on the pale side. Somehow he could feel it, could feel it within him.

"Maybe I do," he remarked.

Renard smiled a little. "Companions aren't necessarily Grimms, but you were always perfect for us. Your abilities complement us. You're important for the balance inside the creature community, and you're important as counterparts, to balance me."

Nick nodded. He had been told before. "But killing me would cripple you."

It got him a shrug. "It's a risk we take. Like you take an immense risk by mating with a blutbad."

"Monroe can take care of himself."

"But your death would drive him over the edge."

Nick's face showed his tension and Renard reached out, gently touching him.

"Nick."

He released a soft breath. "I'm fine. I know the risks. It's why I let Juliette go without a fight. And Monroe can defend himself, he can see others, he knows. He has an advantage over anyone else I might have considered a partner."

Renard squeezed one shoulder. "Your death is not an option," he said calmly.

"I'm not immortal. Or invulnerable. Neither are you."

It got him a grin. "No, but growing old together is a good plan."

Nick fiddled with his phone, then changed topics to asking more about regnants.

"Don't worry," he said. "Not writing this down anywhere. I know it's too dangerous."

Renard nodded his thanks.

No Grimm ever had.

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

Nick spent another night at the regnant’s home, feeling strangely at ease and at home. It was almost like being with Monroe, the warmth and care and belonging. It wasn’t his home, of course, and never could be, but he also didn’t feel like a stranger.

So weird.

Renard didn’t comment at the ease with which he moved through the house; how he checked the perimeter, how he made coffee or ordered them food, how he even gazed into the falling dusk, eyes on a barely perceptible shadow among the trees.

A hexenbiest.

Gray eyes were hard, unyielding, and the Grimm frowned, then turned and glanced at Renard.

The taller man said nothing, just met the hard expression.

“Yes, I’m sure of their loyalty,” he answered the unspoken question.

“How can you?”

“It’s in their blood. I’m sure Marie and anyone else before her wrote that down.” He smirked.

Nick didn’t like it, but he was a lot more lenient and less volatile than others of his heritage.

“Yes, she did.”

“But you still don’t like it.” Renard joined him, shoulders touching, the contact reassuring. “Understandable. You’re still a cop.”

“I have to trust in your word that they won’t betray you.”

“And they never will.”

That was that.

Nick still looked out the window, then finally turned away.

 

He didn’t fall asleep for a while, sitting on the bed, listening to the noises of the house. Monroe texted him, he texted back, and for a while they simply chatted. It was nice.

Nick finally went through the house again, standing near the window and looking outside.

No hexenbiest.

But he knew they were there. One or two. Always. Ready to intervene should something threaten them, but no warriors either.

He finally got some rest around morning.

Four hours.

He would need a lot of strong, black coffee…

 

Nick left the next morning, aware that Renard would be able to heal the rest on his own. He had the hexenbiester as protection.

Monroe shot him a quizzical look, but Nick only shrugged. The blutbad drew him close, brushing their lips together.

“He’s okay?” he finally asked.

“Mostly. Nothing else I can do.”

“You did enough, Nick.”

Another shrug.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Monroe wanted to know.

“Right now? Lots of alcohol.” He smiled humorlessly. “At home,” Nick added. “And staying home.”

“No argument from me.”

 

It was what they did in the end, though Monroe managed to drag Nick out to see a movie. It distracted his Grimm from the changes, from the worry, from the instinctual need to know that the regnant was alright.

Sure, driving past Renard’s house was a setback once more, but who was he to argue? He would do the same, was doing it all for his mate, and in a way it calmed him, too. It was weird how his inner beast had finally accepted the regnant as part of their relationship, part of his life, and how he worried just a little bit, too.

Nick’s health and happiness was important to Monroe, and Renard influenced that.

So keeping Renard healthy and alive was important.

* * *

Their lives fell in synch after that. Renard healed nicely, was declared fit for duty, and the precinct ran like clockwork again. Everyone was visibly relieved to have their captain back.

It became easier for Nick to ignore the surges from Renard’s presence, just like Monroe had become very much at ease with the regnant’s claim on his mate. Renard himself didn’t ask for more than Nick could give and as long as he was emotionally balanced and without injury, he didn’t need his companion physically close.

Sometimes Nick needed the regnant’s presence after a hard case when things got rough. It were tiny moments, barely even there, when Renard sought him out in a quiet corner with no one around. Nick didn’t even have to ask; Renard simply knew and offered.

It felt almost normal to rely on the other man.

“It’s not a weakness,” the regnant said when they met in the quiet semi-darkness of the rec room, no soul anywhere in sight. “Neither for you, nor for me.”

Nick had doubted that at first. For a powerful creature like Renard, relying so much on Nick for balance had to be hindering. Apparently no, though. He never shifted his features to show his true self, even to a Grimm, and it drove home the fact how different and so very much in control he was.

Sharing a late night soft drink looked mostly normal, but the way Renard was close to him, how hungry he seemed for his presence, told Nick that this reliance was heavily one-sided, even if the flow of emotions was two-way.

He was in control.

He called the shots.

It was… disconcerting in a way. It was weird. It wasn’t what he wanted from a relationship, but there was no denying that Renard was dependent on him to some degree. He had allowed this bond and if Nick refused him, there was nothing he could do. Renard needed him a lot more than Nick needed the regnant. Sure, his abilities had flourished, he was able to work a lot more smoothly, he felt the creatures around him, was more aware of what he was and what the world looked like, but it was Renard who relied on his feedback.

Nick didn’t really have to seek out the other man to ease the tension after something bad or straining on a case; he was emotionally balanced; he had Monroe to talk to; he had Hank to share a beer with to talk about cases.

Renard was… self-sufficient, alone, with no family, and now connected to a Grimm he needed. Nick had seen the way his very presence touched the man; he had thought about how easy it would be to abuse these powers and manipulate the powerful creature.

The taller man leaned down a little and brushed his lips over Nick’s temple. “Equals,” he reminded him.  
“You made yourself a lot more vulnerable because of me,” Nick said levelly.

The chaste touch of lips, not even a kiss, was normal. It relayed a lot; and the strongest was love. Not in a physical sense. More like a respectful, emotional sensation, a way for Renard to express what Nick meant to him because there was no other way. Love of a companion, not a mate or lover.

“It’s a calculated risk.”

“Bullshit.”

It got the Grimm a fine smile.

“Something inside you drove you into this connection, like a blutbad’s instinct drives him to go after the color red. You opened yourself up and made yourself vulnerable.”

“I gained more than what you think I lost. And I trust you. Completely.”

A hand ghosted over Nick’s chest, the sensation of power and acceptance and love resonating inside him.

“How could you know I wouldn’t exploit this?” Nick asked neutraly.

“I know you, Nick. I’ve known you since you came to work for me at the precinct. You’re not that kind of person.”

“Unlike Marie would have been?” he challenged.

“She would have looked into how to use this to her advantage,” Renard agreed.

“And control you.”

The taller man tensed a little, a fine tremor racing down his back. Nick gathered him close once more.

“I’m not. I’d never do that. To anyone.”

He had told Clari not to do him favors; and Bud. No freebies for him, no freeloading to be expected, no control, no scare techniques.

“I know,” Renard whispered against his skin.

His lips pressed an affectionate kiss against his temple once more. For a full five seconds the embrace conveyed everything, told Nick more than words, then he straightened, the façade of the captain firmly back in place, his features unreadable. He returned to his desk to pick up where he had left. Nick did the same, though he finally shut down his computer and left.

Equals. Whatever control he had over this mythical creature the regnant was, he wouldn’t yield it. Renard trusted him with a lot more than the knowledge as to who and what he was; he trusted him with his very mind and soul.

Nick would never abuse that.


	15. Chapter 15

There had been no plans to make it a special evening, even though Monroe had swung by his favorite organic shop to buy fresh ravioli. The spinach filling was to die for and their luxury specials were incredible. Sometimes Paolo, the owner and an accomplished chef, mixed up individual batches and Monroe's mouth watered just thinking about them. Paolo liked to be creative and so far all his creations had been nothing but perfect in every way. No wonder the shop was so highly frequented, despite its solitary, off the main shopping road location. Word of mouth was Paolo's advertizing.

Monroe had been on his way back from a very lucrative job and felt especially festive. His bank account was weeping in joy and he knew with a few of those jobs a year he wouldn't need to worry about income. As it was, he had a steady clientele, mostly collectors and antiques shops, who secured his lifestyle. Now and then a big job was a big bonus.

"He has three bruised ribs..."

Calling Nick he told him he was on his way home, with fresh ravioli, and to put on the water. Paolo had outdone himself and the free tasting of several creation had left Monroe wanting to buy all of it. He had finally made the hard decision for one specialty. Such a shame.

He didn't expect to run into what looked like a home invasion.

He didn't expect to see his partner on the floor, bleeding, wheezing, with a massive guy towering over him.

Monroe saw red.

Almost literally.

"…and a dislocated shoulder…"

Nick yelled his name, wide eyes filled with pain and fear and a determination that was so much part of Nick, Monroe knew the man would do something stupid.

Like he was about to do.

Like he did.

Taking on a siegbarst.

Blutbaden were tough and vicious, but siegbarste were even more terrifying because of their lack of a pain response, their thick skin and their heavy built.

"…to go along with a mild concussion."

Monroe was thrown off and he bounced against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. Fury roared through him, his teeth itching to bite into soft flesh, but this was an opponent he wouldn't be able to take down. Hell, even a pack might not be able to!

Pan.

Boiling hot water.

He flung it into the siegbarst's face. The howl was gratifying.

"Nothing broken however."

Shots rang loudly in the confines of their home and the ogre fled, crashing through the front door, the window already a mess.

"Nick!"

Creature traits vanished as Monroe ran over to where Nick lay half-propped against the wall, breathing labored, face a mess, eyes glassy. He fell to his knees, afraid to touch, touching, careful, almost shaking with the adrenaline rush and the fear for his partner.

"Nick…"

"Call Hank," the younger man wheezed breathlessly. "You have to call Hank."

Monroe cradled the dark head, smelled the fear and pain and the overpowering stench of blood. Nick reeked of it all. He was trembling in pain, barely holding on, and Monroe knew he had blood on his own clothes as well.

"He's very lucky."

*

The smell of the hospital wasn't as bad as the memory of Nick's scent. So wrong and so terribly overshadowed by the pain, the raw fear, the terror. The antiseptic was simply everywhere, as was the smell of sickness and death.

He ignored it all.

He could ignore it all.

He couldn't ignore his Grimm.

Monroe gazed at the fitfully sleeping man on the hospital bed, bare chest wrapped to keep the ribs from aggravating any more, shoulder back in place and wrapped, the face marked by the beating he had taken.

Yes, Nick had been lucky.

Getting beat up by a siegbarst? He was extremely lucky to be alive, let alone walk.

"I'll get units posted here at the hospital and outside your house around the clock."

Renard had been there. Dressed in a suit, a hideously expensive cashmere coat, all captain all the time. He had been outside the room, not going inside, looking cool and professional, with a hint of worry for a subordinate, but otherwise…? No different than any superior officer.

It was wrong.

It sounded wrong, it felt wrong.

This was the creature bound to Nick's soul. This was a seriously powerful man who needed the Grimm a lot more than anyone could fathom. This was someone who was aching to be in Monroe's place, to freely move and do what he needed to do.

Monroe knew that he couldn't set up camp in Nick's room, show anyone what connected them, but still…

"You know who did this?"

"Yes. I've got every cop in this city looking for him. Trust me, he'll pay for what he's done."

Yes, he would pay.

Renard's expression had told him so in very clear words; clearer than the actual words. The regnant was out for blood and he would taste it.

The inner beast snarled and clawed at its cage, wanting to get out there and take over and run the siegbarst down. Monroe wanted revenge, he wanted to be the one to bring down Oleg Stark.

Kill.

Maim.

Even if the logical side of the blutbad knew that he would most likely end up pulp, the instinctual side howled.

And for a brief moment Monroe had seen something in Renard's eyes, something cold and deadly and something that had made him want to run away. It was the look of a killer, or a super predator, of someone who would do everything necessary to end this.

No mercy.

Nick started to get more agitated, making soft noises of distress, head jerking from side to side. His nostrils flared, his lips parted in a gasp, and Monroe leaned forward, gently touching one bare forearm.

Eyes flew open, dilated in fear, gazing at him as Nick tried to separate the nightmare from reality. His breathing was still shallow and fast, but he relaxed the moment his brain caught on to where he was, who he was looking at.

"Hey," Monroe said softly, smiling.

"You're hurt," Nick whispered, voice raw and reflecting the pain and terror of the nightmare.

Monroe didn't have to guess what it had been about. Now he slipped his fingers to tangle with Nick's, gently squeezing. Leave it to the young Grimm to worry about a blutbad while he was the one in the hospital bed.

"I'm fine."

A bump to the head, a scraped cheek, more bruises on his back. Blood on his jacket. Nick's blood. He pushed that thought from his mind. His own injuries were minor. Nothing to write home about. He would be fine in no time. Nick on the other hand…

This would need healing.

"Where's Renard?" Nick whispered, looking so out of it from the concussion and the pain meds, Monroe just wants to hold him close and soothe it all away.

"He left. Don't worry. There isn't going to be a pissed off regnant roaming the halls."

At least not within the next few hours, Monroe thought. Renard had the precinct to deal with. He might be back, though. Actually, you could count on him coming back.

"You also got protection outside the room. He even sent someone over to your place, just in case." Monroe smirked as he added, "I'm not planning to stay in a house with cops outside. And no door or window."

"I'm sorry."

He frowned. "What?"

"For bringing this home. Work…"

"Don't," Monroe interrupted. "This wasn't about you. Renard gave me a run-down of the case. It's about your partner and his past. It isn't about you being a cop or a Grimm."

Nick closed his eyes, his breathing labored as he tried to fight the pain of the bruised ribs.

"He's after Hank, Monroe. He wants to flush him out. Through me. I'm his partner."

And siegbarste carried grudges to the grave. The creature wouldn't give up unless Hank Griffin was dead. He would never stop, keep to his goal like a dog with a bone.

"And everyone is looking for him."

Nick's fingers curled around his hand, squeezing. It wasn't a very strong grip. "Promise not to go after him."

"Nick…"

"Promise!" The gray eyes opened, hard and boring into Monroe's in a brief flare of strength and power.

"I promise," he soothed his partner, his Grimm.

He couldn't make that promise for Renard, though. The regnant had looked murderous. Monroe was hardly the one to stop the powerful creature; he doubted even Nick could keep him from going after the ogre right now, and Nick was his companion-counterpart.

No, it was best not to get in the way.

Nick took shallow breaths. "You told me siegbarste are very rare, right?"

Monroe nodded. "Thankfully."

"How can you take one down?"

"Nick…"

"He's after Hank, Monroe! They won't be able to stop him by slapping a pair of cuffs on him!"

Nick's face twisted into a grimace of pain and he screwed his eyes shut after the outburst, fighting a renewed spike of pain. Monroe reached out and gently caressed the unruly, black hair.

"I know. You can't think about hunting him down in your condition."

The Grimm's mouth became a thin line, the pale lines of his face reflecting determination. Monroe almost rolled his eyes. Nick wouldn't be able to make it out of bed without serious help, let alone walk out of this room without falling flat on his face.

"How do you kill one?" the Grimm asked flatly.

"Well, you have to get close enough to land a kill shot before they knock your block off. Unless you have some siegbarste gift. That's do it."

"What?" Nick's expression as suddenly intense, the pain shoved into another compartment.

"Siegbarste gift. Gift. German word for poison. That stuff is so rare… You can search your entire life and never find it. It grows on the north side of trees just below the timber line in Rumania or something." Monroe shook his head. Rumors and half-truths.

"I think I have some," Nick murmured.

That had him stare at the Grimm. "What kind of meds do they have you on, man?"

"From Aunt Marie."

That had the blutbad freeze. "Oh," he said faintly.

Aunt Marie. Marie Kessler. Super Grimm. Monroe still remembered those cold, intense eyes of the woman in the hospital, already on death's door but intensely there. Still deadly.

And Nick was her nephew.

Her heir.

Sometimes he forgot because Nick was so different; and sometimes it was shoved home with a vengeance, like right now.

"What's it do?" Nick asked, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Shatters their bones. Sort of calcifies the ogre from the inside out."

And Monroe didn't like the look in the gray eyes, the intensity, the Grimm. Something was firing up in that brain of his and it wasn't good. At least not right now; not with the condition Nick was in.

Because in the end he drove to a trailer park outside Portland, a muddy, remote place no one in his right mind would bring a trailer. Aside from Nick. And a few others who had dumped what looked like scrap metal spare parts around the place.

Because stepping into Aunt Marie's trailer was like walking into a cabinet of horrors all on his own.

Because while part of him was wary and even slightly terrified, another was exhilarated and giddy with the fact that this was a Grimm's sanctuary.

His Grimm's.

Nick's place now; Marie was dead.

It smelled of only his partner, even though none of the things belonged to him, had been handled by generations before him. And while Monroe knew that as a creature he should destroy this powerful, dangerous and holy place, as a partner to Nick and as his friend, he wouldn't ever betray him.

"Sorry, Dad," he murmured.

His father would have his head if he knew. Then again, his whole family would kill Nick and then Monroe for their relationship.

The thrill of having the power to kill a siegbarst was running through his veins, his blood filled with the fire of a hunt, his soul howling at him to take down the creature who had dared to touch his Grimm. The elephant gun with its special bullets would do the trick.

Monroe growled, feeling fangs grow. Normally he would have wanted to bury his claws in the thick hide of his enemy, but that would be suicide. Now he had a weapon and he intended to use it.


	16. Chapter 16

Things didn’t go as planned, of course. Griffin didn’t stick to the plan. Neither did the siegbarst, who knocked out the detective with one blow. Monroe fumbled with the rifle and was about to aim it at the massive creature’s back when something crashed into Stark and threw him down.

Wide-eyed, mouth open, Monroe stared at the regnant, in all his full creature-out glory, standing over their opponent. The siegbarst roared in anger.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“You come into my territory,” Renard said coldly. “Paying no proper respect. You kill, you attack what is under my protection.”

“He is human! He sent me to prison! He is mine!”

The unholy fire in the orange eyes gave Monroe the creeps.

“You attacked the Grimm.”

The siegbarst snarled. “You have no power over me!”

“He is mine,” Renard stated. “In my territory.”

And mine, Monroe thought fiercely. Mine!

His fingers curled around the rifle and he swallowed a growl. Yes, he was a possessive bastard. Yes, he was proprietary as hell. And yes, he knew that Nick voluntarily belonged to him, bore his mark, was his alone. But right now? Listening to the other creature claim his Grimm so easily in front of a stranger, he wanted to challenge him for this right.

Okay, he thought breathlessly, pushing the beast away. Not good. So not good.

No point in getting into a pissing contest with Renard. Nick had a different bond to them and there were no overlapping areas. Well, sometimes. Like physical contact.

And would his brain please stop thinking about that? He had a siegbarst to kill!

“I don’t care about the Grimm! Give me Griffin!” Stark stepped closer.

“No. Leave.”

“This isn’t your call! He’s mine!”

And he was a slow thinker with more muscle than brain, Monroe mused.

“One last chance,” Renard said flatly.

Monroe raised his weapon; ready.

The siegbarst charged, bowling over the regnant, both creatures going down. Monroe cursed, still keeping his place in the reeds, waiting for his chance. He watched the exchange of blows, had to hand it to Renard that he was agile and fast and could take a beating, but siegbarste were the tanks of the creature world. While the guy was bleeding, he wasn’t showing any signs of being affected by the deep cuts from the regnant’s claws. He was still going at it full steam.

Renard was thrown aside, his lighter weight nothing compared to the raw power of the siegbarst. But he was fast and resilient and very, very determined. Not to mention that regnants were insanely deadly as well. This one also held a grudge that rivaled Stark’s most likely, and he had his companion-counterpart in the hospital, beat up and vulnerable.

Someone Stark might have killed given the chance.

Someone important.

The siegbarst howled when those viciously sharp claws ripped into the thick skin, going deep, but the howl wasn’t one of pain. More annoyance, really.

Renard received a blow to the abdomen for his troubles, but not before flaying the skin off the bigger creature’s arm.

Monroe had the broad back of the siegbarst in his sight. The clothes hung in tatters, saturated in blood, and suddenly he understood the battle tactic.

Wound him.

Make him bleed.

Weaken him through blood loss.

And don’t get killed before the prey was down on his knees and ready for the final, merciful blow.

Monroe didn’t want to wait this long and while it would take the pleasure of the kill from the regnant – and the pleasure of seeing the kill from Monroe -- the blutbad’s sensitive ears picked up sirens in the distance. He knew they were running out of time.

He pulled the trigger.

The siegbarst froze, took two staggering steps, grunted, then crashed to the ground. Monroe half expected an earthquake from the impact.

Renard simply stood there, tall and proud, those fiery eyes pinning Monroe down in his hiding spot.

The sirens were closer now.

The blutbad quickly packed the rifle away and hurried to his car, not the least bit surprised – well, okay, a bit startled maybe – to find the regnant waiting there.

The two so very different creatures looked at each other, aware of what bound them together, aware what had happened just now.

“Go,” Renard said softly, already shifting back to his human form.

Monroe nodded, throwing the rifle into the car.

“And thank you,” the regnant added.

He looked at the other man, seeing the bruises the fight had left. All could be hidden underneath clothes, though.

“I did it for Nick,” Monroe told him calmly.

It got him a nod.

Then Monroe was off, driving back to the trailer yard. He had a rifle to dispose of and a Grimm to visit in the hospital.

* * *

The nightmares didn’t stop just because Oleg Stark was dead.

Renard sat at his desk, twenty-four hours after the death of the siegbarst, feeling the images, seeing them, experiencing them as if he had been the victim of the vicious beating. His breathing quickened, he winced involuntarily as a remembered blow to Nick’s ribs had him react to it, and he screwed his eyes shut.

Nick’s shields were completely down. He was wide open mentally and vulnerable physically, a Grimm on a silver platter. There was no longer a reason to keep a police guard at his room, so the hexenbiester had taken over as nurses and with other disguises, keeping an eye on the most important person in their regnant’s life.

Renard drew a calming breath, but the next image had him almost whimper. Nick was thrown over the dinner table, colliding hard with the wall. He was grabbed by one arm, pain shooting through the abused shoulder, and a fist crashed into his face.

He clenched his hands into fists, blunt nails biting into his palms.

Shields. No shields. He could bring up his own, but like a masochist he was riding out the terrible moments of the beating, feeling it all, wanting to scream out his own pain.

Because Nick was the center of his being. Because he was his counterpart. Because he was his soulbonded. Because Renard, for all his power and status, had been unable to protect this important person; had nearly lost him.

He wanted to scream, tear the office apart, bury his claws in the walls. He wanted to destroy something, preferably a siegbarst, just because the fight hadn’t been enough.

He hurt what’s mine! Mine! No one has the right to touch him! He’s mine!

He forced the anger down, a hiss escaping his lips.

Monroe was at the hospital as much as he could, and Renard had no reason to be there at all. It was a similar situation Nick had experienced months earlier, with Renrad shot and hospitalized. Now the other man knew what his counterpart had been going through.

 

Gasping, wheezing, ribs on fire, short of breath. Big hands grabbing him, the stench incredible. Thrown clear across the room, colliding with the couch table, crashing, falling to the floor, pain everywhere.

Panic.

Fear.

Outright terror.

“Grimm.”

Facial features shifting, then another explosion of violence.

Backhanded so hard, he fell into the hallway, dizzy and pain everywhere.

 

Renard forced himself to even out his breathing, not to let himself get pulled into the vortex of terror and pain, but it was hard. It was even harder to ignore the imperative to be with the Grimm.

His fingers curled into fists.

The regnant finally gave up, aware that unless he could reassure himself in person that Nick was fine, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly.

 

No one was there when he left. The precinct was quiet. No one saw his disintegrating control, the way his hands trembled, how pale he was.

Thankfully.

* * *

The hospital was close to deserted at night, only the nightshift present. He knew where to go, in which room Nick was, and one of his hexenbiester nodded at him from behind the desk. All three were currently here, he knew. Always working in threes when protection was needed.

Nick’s bed was still partially raised to keep his ribs as free of strain as possible, but it would take a while for him to be able to come back to work. Bruises were worse than breaks. They hurt like a bitch.

Renard closed the door, the room semi-dark, the monitors no longer switched on. Nick wasn’t critical and he would probably be sent home tomorrow. Bed rest and therapy for the shoulder as soon as possible.

The regnant felt part of the tension inside him flow away at the sight of his counterpart, taking in the damage done to the younger man, feeling a renewed burst of anger at the one who had done this.

Who was dead.

Suddenly Nick’s eyes opened, one framed by an angry, swollen bruise that was now a deep red and purple, cuts on top of the swelling. He looked tired, but no longer like he was about to fade out again.

“Hey,” the Grimm murmured, lips twitching into a smile.

And Renard was suddenly next to the bed, touching what was his, what someone else had tried to take away. He gave in to the instinctual need to reassure himself physically that nothing had gotten worse. His fingers stroked over one bare forearm, then curled around it, feeling the life and warmth of the other man.

“Nick…”

Nick smiled slightly more, knowingly.

The regnant sank onto the chair, the rest of the tension falling away and, in a move that showed how desperate he had been, let his head sink against Nick’s skin.

Fingers brushed over his head, Nick’s touch light, gentle, hesitant.

“I’m okay,” his counterpart stated softly.

“You’re not, but I’m letting that slide,” Renard murmured.

“Sean.”

His name. Nick never used it. Nick had only once ever called him by his first name. Now the word launched a flood of emotions, opening the connection completely, warmth flowing through his soul.

He took a shaky breath, eyes still closed, trembling slightly. Renard finally raised his head, looking into the gray eyes of his greatest strength and weakness. Nick’s face was reflecting complete acceptance.

“Monroe told me what happened,” he said, smiling slightly.

Renard nodded.

“Hank was here and I’ve got his version. He was knocked out, has no idea who killed Stark, and you gave him a serious dressing down.”

“He went rogue. We had a plan, we had people waiting there for him and Stark. It wasn’t his decision to make,” Renard stated coolly, now in superior officer mode. “He nearly got himself killed out of some misunderstood pride and honor.”

Nick nodded slightly. “Like you.”

They looked at each other, Renard aware that both sides were still completely open, that Nick knew he had been ready to tear the siegbarst to pieces even if it killed him.

Because he had dared to touch Nick. His Grimm. His counterpart. His alone.

Nick’s expression was open, accepting, no longer fighting the proprietary line of thought. The smile playing faintly around his lips was inviting as well as knowing.

Renard reached out and lightly brushed a hand over the pale face, careful not to hurt the younger man, just needing to do this, to reassure himself. He wanted to do so much more, wanted to hold Nick close, wanted him in his home and protect him until Nick was well again, but he wouldn’t be able to. Monroe’s home was where Nick would spent the time healing.

The Grimm reached for the hand stroking over his skin, entangling their fingers and letting it rest on his bare chest, over his breast bone, near the edge of the bandages.

“I know,” he murmured. “I think we can find a compromise. You’re important to me, too. Very important.”

His to protect.

Renard shivered.

“You should sleep, Sean. You look awful; worse than I do.” Nick smiled a little, squeezing the hand he held.

The regnant fought the notion of leaving. Despite how exhausted he was. Despite how badly Nick needed rest. He felt the soft waves between their souls, felt the perfection, and even with the bitter tang of pain, it was more than he had when he was alone.

But he couldn’t stay.

“You won’t be alone, Nick. Whoever thinks an injured Grimm is an easy target will learn how wrong they are,” he promised darkly as he rose.

“I saw them already,” Nick told him, acceptance in his voice.

Renard smiled and brushed a gentle kiss over one temple.

Then he let go of the warm hand and left, fighting instinct not to run back into the room and wrap himself around the other man, not let go.

Adalind was there when he arrived at the nurses’ desk. Her eyes were warm and compassionate.

“Take care of him,” he said softly.

She inclined her head. She would.

 

tbc...


	17. Chapter 17

Renard slept a little better that night, though not as deeply and long as usually. He kept getting flashes of Nick’s side, still open and close. His own shields were down to a minimum.

He wanted his counterpart close.

As close as Nick let him.

The soft pulses had him turn toward their source, smiling in his sleep. He curled next to Nick, holding him, caressing him.

Mine, he thought calmly.

Nick echoed the proprietary claim with the same calm.

No more fighting; complete acceptance.

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

* * *

Nick was released the next afternoon. The drive home was straining, the Grimm pale as a sheet when Monroe finally stopped in front of his house. His breathing was shallow, Nick trying to control the pain, and getting him inside hurt the blutbad as much as it did Nick himself. Monroe had already prepared the couch and he helped Nick onto it, pushing pillow under his back to ease the strain.

Nick’s house was under repair. Not only would they need a lot of new furniture, but also a new window and a new door. So Monroe’s place it was. He also felt safer here, more capable of protecting his partner.

He took out the pain medication and gave Nick two of the pills together with a bottle of water. Nick swallowed the pills without argument, a sign that he was in enough pain to need them.

 

The Grimm slept a lot the first day home, still fighting off the medication, but also needing painkillers to ease the tension in his muscles, and that had him sleep again.

Monroe had shopped before Nick had come here, his pantry, fridge and all cabinets filled to the max with food items. He didn’t really want to leave the other man alone for a prolonged time.

 

After the first night, Monroe was a lot more at ease. The tension was gone, the constant need to check if Nick was okay, and they spent the evenings watching TV. Throughout the second day Monroe worked on an easy clock job while Nick read or slept an hour or two.

He found his partner texting when he was done wrapping up his latest repair. There was a frown on the still too pale features.

“Renard?” he guessed when the other man looked up.

“Kinda. I called Hank, just to check in. He’s already back to work. And I wanted to know if there will be any more consequences. Renard told me to stop calling and concentrate on getting better.”

Monroe was silent, waiting.

“He sounded pretty stressed,” Nick added with a soft sigh.

“And you’re texting him now?”

“He ended the call. Told me in no uncertain terms to think about myself, not my partner, and to let others deal with closing this case for good.”

“He’s right.”

“I know.”

Monroe sat down next to him, taking the phone from Nick’s hands. “You said he’s stressed. It’s his job, Nick.”

“Sure. And he can do it. He can’t handle me being here, though.”

The blutbad snorted. “Yeah, right. He wants you in his house.”

“Monroe…”

“I know he’s a needy bastard, Nick. I know it because I’m just as a needy, okay? I don’t want to let you out of my sight after this!”

Nick blinked, slightly bemused, then a slow smile curled around his lips. He tangled his fingers in Monroe’s flannel shirt and tugged him close to kiss him. Monroe was only too happy to let him, keeping the kiss light and teasing.

“I’m okay. Really. The last bumps and bruises will heal. I’ll live.”

Monroe exhaled sharply. “Yeah. I knew putting up with a Grimm would get me my share of trouble, but damn! It’s hard!”

“You’re putting up with me?” Nick teased.

Monroe scowled. “You’re pretty high maintenance, man. Even more now with a regnant bonded to you.”

Nick pressed the hand that had been carded into the shirt against Monroe’s chest, a soft expression in his eyes. “Monroe…”

“And I don’t mind him. Really. You can get used to a scary, rare and powerful myth breathing down your neck. Just fine, actually. And I can tolerate him touching you. I’m good, Nick. Really good.”

The gray eyes were mesmerizing, keeping him pinned to the spot, like little x-rays looking through his shields and into his very soul.

“I know you’re good. The best,” was the calm answer. “I wouldn’t be able to do all of this without you.”

Nick slid the hand around Monroe’s neck, pulled him into another almost-chaste kiss. Monroe let his head rest against the less battered right shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent of his mate. Nick was going to be fine. He knew it.

But Renard wasn’t.

Renard needed something he couldn’t get right now; at least not without breaking into a blutbad’s house and upsetting the tenuous balance between them.

Monroe straightened and Nick shot him a quizzical look. “Call him. Or text him. Tell him he can come over here to get his fix.”

Nick’s eyes grew wide, his mouth opening, then snapping shut again. “Monroe?” he finally managed.

I can be grown up about all of this,” the blutbad stated firmly. “I can handle a regnant in my home; I already have.”

“I wasn’t there then. You didn’t have your injured mate with you at the time.”

“He would never harm you. I know that. You’re safe with him.”

Even though the words were delivered strongly, something inside him winced. Letting anyone in right now went against every instinct; even Roddy or Clari would be a danger in his eyes, and they were rodents!

“I can do this. For you.”

Nick’s expression was one of love and tenderness. “Thank you, Monroe.”

The kiss was deeper this time, but not enough to arouse the inner beast. He was very much aware of the state Nick was in and anything strenuous had to wait a while.

This was for Nick.

* * *

Renard looked almost desperate and Monroe knew in that precise moment that his decision had been the right one. Even if his inner animal hissed at the intruder into his home, close to a very vulnerable and weak Grimm.

Renard’s counterpart, he reminded himself. Someone the regnant would never hurt.

No, it hadn’t been the wrong decision. The man looked bad, coming apart at the seams, his face too pale, the lines too harsh. He might be dressed to kill, even in jeans and a black sweatshirt, two items that probably cost more than all the wardrobe Monroe owned together, but he was ragged. Completely ragged.

Nick, his dislocated shoulder still in a sling, stepped up to the taller man, no hesitation in his movement, and met the turmoiled, green gaze.

Renard was visibly fighting with his own inner creature and Monroe stayed completely still, shushing himself in his head. The regnant’s gaze darted over to his Grimm’s mate, looking for clues, wanting, needing to know. Monroe made no hostile move, let the other man take in the scene, everything calm and open and accepting.

And then Nick made the final step and curled an arm around Renard, sliding his hand over the dark sweater and bringing them together.

 

tbc...


	18. Chapter 18

Monroe experienced an insane second of roaring jealousy and ‘minemineminehandsoffMINE!’ chants in his head, coupled with the furious bark of the wolf wanting to reclaim his mate, then he locked that part away. Because despite what it looked like, it didn’t feel anything close to a claiming from Renard’s side.

The inner beast grumbled, but it cowed to the logic that if Renard wanted Nick, he would be able to toss Monroe aside and take him. Right now the man in front of him wasn’t giving off any hostile, possessive vibes.

Just sheer desperation.

This was Nick taking the lead, Nick controlling the situation, Nick being the more powerful of the two.

Monroe stared. It was this moment that drove home to him that Nick Burckhardt, his little Grimm, was in charge of this powerful creature. Renard depended on him. Renard was his.

And the regnant submitted and rested his head on the dark hair, eyes closed, shaking ever so slightly, feeding on the presence of a man he needed in his life, whom he had offered his very soul to, whom he bound himself to. His greatest weakness; his greatest strength.

Only slowly did he wrap his arms lightly around the smaller form. It was so hesitant, it was almost beautiful to watch.

Monroe felt like a voyeur, but it was a strangely beautiful picture, seeing the calming effect a Grimm could have. Not fear or distrust or anger or thoughts of vengeance. Just… need.

Need to know Nick was okay; Monroe could very much relate to that.

Need to reassure himself that the Grimm was alive; yep, another point where they concurred.

Need to feed. Monroe was quite aware that this was where their needs differed. The blutbad wasn’t soul-bound, though they had bonded. The regnant needed the life energy of the Grimm’s soul like Monroe needed air to breathe. Right now, that was what was happening here, and even the intimate embrace wasn’t sparking any scent of arousal.

He knew how calming Nick was for him. For Renard, who needed him on a completely different level, it had to be just as intense.

Renard finally pulled back and Nick looked slightly dazed, from medication and his unaccustomed physical weakness and the whole exchange. Monroe had to bite his lower lip not to rush forward and grab the smaller man, pull him away. To wrap him in his arms and carry him to their safe bedroom.

He was a good wolf. He had promised he could do this. He had done it and he was still doing it. Calmly. Serenely. Accepting it.

He watched as the other creature caressed the pale face, then looked at him and nodded.

“Thank you, Monroe.”

Monroe just frowned, pointedly bringing across the fact that Nick needed to sit down again. Renard shot him a brief smile and helped their Grimm to the couch.

“I’m fine,” the younger man grumbled half-heartedly. “Two mother-hens are really too much. I’m not a baby!”

“Of course not,” Renard said diplomatically, features carefully schooled.

It got him a glare from the Grimm.

It came as no great surprise that Nick started to doze off, though he was fighting to stay awake.

Renard stepped back and Monroe saw the inner fight, knew that fight because he felt so much for Nick, too, and he caught the man’s eye again to gesture at the kitchen. Renard took the beer he slid over to him.

“Thank you,” the regnant said softly after a first, deep swallow. “For everything. I know I’m an intruder and I will leave, Monroe.”

“He needs you.”

“No. I need him. Nick is strong and a very independent man. He doesn’t need this bond. He didn’t go looking for it, nor did he initiate it. I did all that and I know that makes me the more vulnerable of the two of us.”

Monroe stared at him, surprised by the openness, the confession.

“We both need him in our lives. I realize that this triangular relationship is difficult for a blutbad and that you have accommodated me as much as possible. I’m not going to overstay my welcome.” He emptied the beer in one last, great gulp. “Never doubt his love for you, Monroe. You can trust him in that.”

Monroe swallowed. “I do. I never doubted him.”

“Good.”

Renard looked at the resting Grimm on the couch, smiling softly, eyes reflecting the tenderness. Then he quietly left, and it seemed he had to tear himself away.

Monroe was flabbergasted, still shocked from those last words, and he finally settled on his couch, eyes on Nick. As if he felt him close, the Grimm opened his eyes and smiled sleepily at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Monroe carded his fingers into the tousled hair. Nick leaned into him, wincing only a little, though the shallow breath told Monroe that the ribs were hindering him in every possible way. He pressed a kiss against one temple, then fussed over his mate until Nick lay propped up, taking the strain off the bruised ribs.

“He’s gone?” Nick asked, sounding half asleep again already.

“Yeah.”

“But he’s better.”

And with that Nick was dozing off once more.

Yes, Renard was better, Monroe had to agree. And as long as Nick was doing as well as right now, he would be fine.

Nothing like this had been supposed to happen. Monroe swore to himself that he would do everything in his power not to make it happen once more. He couldn’t protect Nick 24/7. He couldn’t keep him from doing either of his two jobs. But he could be there.

Like now.

* * *

Bruises were worse than broken bones. Especially bruised ribs. It took Nick a lot longer than he wanted to be cleared for full duty. Desk duty was killing him, as were his ribs the first day back. He was writing reports, going over old files, checking evidence logs and preparing court cases.

It was slow, it was easy, it was boring.

Renard was trying not to hover and he managed pretty well. He barely paid Nick any attention, but when the Grimm went to warm up some food, the other man was there. Renard was close to where Nick was waiting for the microwave, pouring himself a coffee.

The bond was like a living being inside him, relaying Renard’s need the touch, the closeness. Nick caught the flitter of emotions that randomly crossed the regnant’s features. They were standing about a foot apart, near enough to touch yet far enough to resist, tension filling the short distance that lay between them.

Like whispers he felt the connection flare and die down, Renard fighting to keep his shields and failing. This would sooner or later give him the mother of all headaches.

Nick cast a careful look around, seeing no one, and turned to curl an arm around the regnant’s waist, feeling the flare of energy when they touched.

It had happened often enough for Nick to know that Renard was a bit off balance, that he was feeding right now, trying not to intrude too much into Nick’s soul, and it was stupid. As always. He should know better by now. The Grimm wasn’t going to withhold what the regnant needed.

Companions weren’t mindless drones, nor were they simply soul food. Renard had treated him with so much respect, it was really weird sometimes. And now he had hesitated in taking what he needed.

“I’d never force this,” the regnant murmured.

“I know.”

A few seconds were enough. The green eyes lost their strained look and they separated before the intimate contact could be discovered. The microwave pinged and Nick took out his lunch, smiling briefly at Renard, who was stirring his coffee.

“It will be better in a few days,” the other man said, almost apologetically.

“You and Monroe are very much alike in that.” Nick smirked. His mate was no less protective and needy, just in a different way.

“Probably.” Renard sipped at the coffee. “We have reason to be.”

His shields were back, his posture less tense. “Nick,” he said, voice back to the formal tone.

Nick smiled briefly. “Captain.”

Back to work.

 

A week later he was finally allowed back on full duty. Not a minute too soon, he thought.

Nick’s bruises were just faint marks on his face.

Renard was his cool, collected self.

Monroe had stopped being a mother-hen.

Cases kept coming in.

Business as usual.

* * *

The closeness to Renard stayed. Even after so much time passing between their first realization of this bond and today. Nick was always aware of the man, of his emotional state, of his health. It wasn’t an oppressive knowledge, a constant thought on his mind. No, it was a lot more subtle.

Like a background hum, a soft presence. Renard was part of him and Nick knew that his own presence was felt by the other man as well.

Monroe had given him this narrow-eyed look when he had tried to explain, then waved it off.

“Don’t. Just… don’t. This sound like some really weird and obscene mind-fuck thing and I don’t want to picture it.”

Nick had laughed and pulled him into a kiss, reassuring the blutbad that he was the only one Nick had any kind of intimate relationship with. Monroe knew that, but he didn’t mind a little reassurance now and then.

Renard’s need to physically touch Nick had grown less. It didn’t mean Nick wouldn’t seek him out and let the regnant feed for a moment or two, enjoying it just as much as the other.

Nick had also given the connection he shared with Renard some more thought and lately he had started to approach this whole thing like a case. He was gathering the facts and he was looking at the evidence.

Renard was a creature, a regnant.

Regnants were rare, powerful and rather unknown in the creature world.

Regnants were protectors, seen as royalty and of noble descent, and loners.

Grimms seemed to be able to bond to regnants in a way that balanced the creatures, made them more complete.

Grimms were the perfect match, but not every Grimm was a companion to the next best regnant. It was like a lifelong search for that one perfect counterpart.

Renard was perfect for him and vice versa.

Those were the facts. The evidence was multiple and complicated, but one thing was very clear: they had this connection and something came through now and then.

They weren't telepathic. There was no way one of the two could read the other mind, but the emotions coming through were the same. Emotions and something like colors, moods, feelings.... the whole nine yards.

Distress. Pain. Strong negative emotions. Then there was the warmth and the sensation of belonging, of perfection, completion and trust. Positive emotions.

Nick had analyzed the positive ones long and hard since sometimes, just sometimes, it was almost sexual. Not arousing; more like a deep-set desire to have and to hold.

Yes, Sean Renard was a possessive bastard and he didn’t even try to lie about it. He had staked a claim on Nick, but he wasn’t pursuing him like a lover. He respected Monroe’s claim of Nick as a sexual partner and only asked for the Grimm to be his counterpart. Their interactions were… sensual. Not arousing, but… nice. Nick felt good when the regnant touched him, he let him touch him, let him brush his lips over the Grimm’s skin. Nothing spoke of an intention to get him into bed, but it was an emotional connection, one that could easily turn into more.

Nick Burckhardt was nothing if not relentless and he wanted to work with that connection, wanted to see how much he could control it, shape it, use it. He would stand by his vow never to control the regnant, the creature, but if he knew what this two-way road truly was, how much he could consciously influence it, it would be an asset.

Especially in his line of work where he could need every advantage he could get.

It was just Renard’s luck that the Grimm decided to start with very intense, private emotions.

Lust. Need. Desire. And sexual arousal.

 

tbc...


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NC-17 rating for the first scene in this chapter!! But only for that small part.

_Nick knelt over him, their cocks sliding against each other with every push of Monroe sheathing himself inside the Grimm. Large hands held his hips and the blutbad set up a rhythm. Other hands slid over his chest, his neck, caressing his face, and he kissed them as they brushed over his lips._

_Green eyes glowed with a reflection of fiery orange._

_Monroe pushed hard, making Nick groan, drawing a similar moan from the man underneath._

_Everything was slick heat, wonderful friction, bolts of pleasure shooting from that sensitive spot inside him. Nick let his head drop onto the broad shoulders of Renard, letting Monroe push him harder, feeling the shudders of the other man underneath him as his own climax was coming up fast._

 

Renard panted, his body tingling with the backwash of raw sexual energy, lazily flowing through his soul and wrapping itself fully around his very being. He shuddered with the echoes. The sensations were still strong, as if Nick had been there with him, as if he had experienced both Nick’s and his own climax. He had been two people that moment, himself and Nick. He had felt the Grimm intensely, intimately, as if Nick had been with him.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, Renard laughed breathlessly.

Damnit! His little Grimm was learning. And fast!

There was the sensation of shared amusement and he shook his head. It had been his own fault for spying on his counterpart like that. He just liked how Nick felt to him.

The younger man was an addiction, an intoxicating presence he wanted more and more of.

Now he had gotten a lot more than he had bargained for.

_My apologies_ , Renard thought, wondering if the emotions came across.

He got a lazy, sleepy reply, then something close to a hug. A hug that pulled him close to the very relaxed presence of his counterpart.

_Nick?_

It was alright. Nick didn’t mind. Somehow he didn’t mind.

Renard was stunned, but he curled close to the bright beacon of perfection, caressing what he was allowed to touch. He enjoyed the soft waves of satisfaction from the younger man.

It made him happy. Insanely happy.

Nick hummed, half-asleep. Renard tried to retreat a little, but it was hard and he finally let the Grimm stay wrapped around him.

_Mine._

Renard shivered. Yes, he was Nick’s. Completely. He might be more powerful, he might be a creature, he could take out a human through physical strength alone, but in regards to Nick he had been claimed.

Nick held incredible power over him, whether he wanted to or not, and Sean Renard had voluntarily allowed the other man to have this power. It was what a companion-counterpart meant to a regnant. Whoever the companion was, they were powerful.

It was how Renard fell asleep, wrapped in a loose embrace, feeling the gentle presence of his counterpart.

It was pure perfection.

* * *

Renard was waking at a leisurely pace, bit by bit, and he felt incredibly calm and at peace with himself. A feeling of everything being completely right, balanced and where it should be coursed through his body and soul. In the back of his waking mind a presence rested comfortably, fitting in, belonging there.

Coming around to the sensation of not being alone had been almost normal for the past months, but it had never been this close, never been this intense, and for an insane moment Renard thought Nick was with him, right there in his bed.

He wasn’t.

But the connection was strong and wide open.

Lying in his bed, looking inward to where he felt Nick, the regnant let himself experience this feeling of utter completion at leisure. Nick was still sleeping, next to his mate, but also next to his counterpart.

This was so much more than he had ever expected to have, to hold, call his own. He hadn’t dared to hope for Nick to be so open to the changes, to accept Renard and the connection. Nick was still new to the Grimm world, and the bond between them was even more so. But the Grimm had embraced it, had worked with it, had made it his own. There was no comparison for Renard; he had never bonded to anyone before. He also had no one to exchange stories or information with. Regnants guarded their counterparts and he would never actively discuss Nick with anyone; not even his family.

Nick was his alone.

“Beautiful,” he whispered into the silence of his home, lazily stroking himself as a surge from last night reminded him of the pleasure he had experienced.

He brought himself off with a soft gasp, lost in the sensation of pleasure and memories.

*

He saw his detective around noon at the precinct, Nick shooting him a knowing smirk when no one was around. Renard inclined his head, aware that he had almost broken a trust that hadn’t been given lightly, but Nick was more at ease now, more accepting, and the way the younger man handled this spoke of the growth he had gone through.

Walking into the captain’s office under the pretense of talking about what headway he and Hank had made on a case, Nick met the inquisitive green eyes calmly.

The bond was firm. No doubt about it. Inseparable, interwoven on so many levels that no surgeon would ever be able to cut all the strands. It was fully two-way, both able to shield or drop shields, even partially, at will. Right now Renard enjoyed the physical presence, feeling the soft echoes of Nick’s soul.

“I’m not going to come between you and your mate,” the regnant reassured him.

“I know. I won’t let you. But your kind seems to be some kind of psychic vampire when it comes to your counterparts, hm?”

Renard looked stunned.

“You feed on this, Renard. On my psychic presence, on my soul’s bond to yours. I don’t care and I don’t mind because it doesn’t harm me,” Nick stated neutraly. “As long as you know that this is all you have from me in that regard.”

He nodded his acceptance. “I never asked for more, Nick.”

The erotic feedback was nice; the fact that Nick had actually teased him with it had been very… tasty.

The detective looked at him long and hard. “No, you didn’t. This whole thing seems to be developing, though.”

“It does.”

“And you didn’t have a clue.”

Renard smiled fleetingly. “No. As I said, it hasn’t happened in my family for a long time and I never knew my great-grandmother. There is no book on the whole matter of a counterpart bond. There is no general guide, only lore.”

“So this could still grow more?”

He studied the expressive features, read the fear and the doubt and the need to know.

“I’m not sure, Nick.”

“Do you want more?” he asked straight-forward, voice sharp.

A gentle brush touched his mind, fleetingly, like a breeze. It was warm, of a feathery quality, but still strong.

“This is what I want, Nick.”

“And the rest?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it… you…”

Nick stiffened a little, eyes flashing a warning at him.

“You gave it to me. You opened the connection and you wanted me there,” he reminded him.

“I wanted to know how deep it goes.”

“You found out.”

The Grimm was silent, gazing at him with guarded eyes, then Nick nodded slowly.

“Your call,” the regnant added.

His counterpart didn’t respond, but there was a shift in his demeanor, like it had caught his attention. He would never push. He wasn’t in need of the emotional feedback, but it had been pleasurable and he would of course accept the experience again.

“We’ll see,” Nick only said, but the gray eyes spoke of a very certain possibility.

Interesting, the regnant mused. Apparently the fact that Renard was like a watcher, maybe a shielded participant, wasn’t an averse thought for Nick.

Renard watched him as he walked back to his desk, said something to Hank and both men grinned, then headed out of the precinct.

This was more than he had ever hoped to gain from bonding with the young Grimm. So much more. It was perfection.

With a smile he returned to work.

*

He felt Nick again the next time he and his mate slept together. Actually, he had been hoping for it, had wanted to touch the bright soul that was his, and he wasn’t disappointed.

Renard didn’t care whether Nick told Monroe or not. He simply immersed himself in the perfection that was Nick Burckhardt, let himself ride along the wave of desire, and he held the other man in his mind as he came down. Physically wrapped up in Monroe’s arms, completely sated, psychically linked forever to the regnant.

* * *

Creatures respected the Grimm; mostly. Nick might be a common enemy of the creature world, but he wasn’t really hunted. Sometimes creatures stalked him. Sometimes they tried something. It was never too bad, though. Whoever came after him on their own had a lot of respect for the Grimm’s abilities and so far he had been able to chase them off, sometimes with a look. Blutbaden were more aggressive and attack-happy than maybe a misguided lone jagerbar, but they didn’t single him out for a kill.

As long as Nick didn’t get in their way the creature world left him alone. If anyone stepped out, the detective was the first to respond, the Grimm only when necessary.

That he was truly stalked by a bunch of bat-like creatures – Monroe told they usually went by ‘fleder’ in the creature world and were rather nasty if provoked – and nearly killed shook him more than he let on.

It also rattled Renard, who was suddenly doing his very own version of stalking his counterpart. Especially with Monroe’s upcoming and very necessary business trip to San Francisco because there was a major job waiting for him that would rake in a good heap of money. Nick had told him to go. He had actually ordered him to go and take care of his clockmaker business. The client was rich and had money to spare, throwing it around to buy very expensive, exclusive antiques.

Renard had started to pay him a lot more attention.

And Nick wasn’t happy. He was very well able to protect himself and the fleder creatures had been one in a thousand incidents.

The geier were another problem. Nick came out of that with scratches all over him, deep claw marks on his back and right hand that needed treatment, and bruises.

But then the reapers raised their ugly heads and Renard knew a threat when he got one.

‘A Grimm on his own is like a samurai without a master.’

But Nick wasn’t on his own. And he didn’t need a master. Renard didn’t see himself as even close to a controlling force in the younger man’s life. No regnant would ever dream of mastering their counterpart. He sometimes wished he could talk to another of his kind who had found their Grimm, but that was close to impossible. What he had was too rare, too perfect, for it to happen within the small circle of his own family or the few other regnants he had heard of.

He and Nick were alone in this, discovering who and what they were at their own pace.

But the reapers’ call was a threat to Nick on a very different level. Something he couldn’t tolerate, even if he hadn’t bonded by now.

They didn’t know it.

It was time to act.


	20. Chapter 20

Their interaction so far had been mostly through Nick or because of something that had happened to the man they were, in their own, very different ways, bound to. Renard respected Monroe’s territorial behavior, his claim on the Grimm, but after the latest events he had come to realize that to keep the most important person in their lives safe, he might have to overstep a line.

He might have to enter Monroe’s territory and do something that could either destroy Nick’s relationship with his mate or drive the blutbad into doing something very stupid: go after the regnant.

So he would have to talk.

With Monroe.

Explain.

And hope. Hope and maybe pray.

*

Monroe opened the door when he knocked, brows lowering over dark eyes, mouth a thin line.

“What do _you_ want?”

Renard gave him a quick smile, not the least bit perturbed by the gruff greeting. “May I come in?”

Monroe stared at him for a full three seconds, then opened the door wider and stepped back.

“Come on in.”

Renard walked into the house, very much aware he was entering Monroe’s home turf, his den, that he was currently an intruder. The blutbad closed the door and looked at him a moment longer, brow still lowered, then,

“Beer?”

Renard nodded and watched as Monroe walked into the small kitchen to get the offered drink.

“Not to seem inhospitable,” the other man said as he popped the bottle, “but what the heck do you want here? Nick’s not here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“About Nick.”

“Broad topic.”

“He’s in danger.”

“Same broad topic. He’s a Grimm, dude. And a cop. Both very dangerous jobs.”

Renard gave him a patient smile. “Yes.”

“So? Want to say it more clearly?”

“He was never trained as a Grimm, Monroe.”

“We both know that. Nick knows that. Believe me, I really do know that and I worry about him just as much as you do. You think I run into danger for fun?”

Renard played with the bottle. “One day he might not be so lucky.”

Monroe looked at him with a frown.

“There is a way to protect him.”

The blutbad tensed. “How?” he asked flatly.

“I would have to mark him in my own way.”

The flash of red running through the brown eyes was the first warning he got. The growl coming was the second.

Renard raised one hand, the one without the beer bottle, in a calming gesture. “Never as a mate,” he added.

“He’s mine,” the blutbad snarled, fangs growing. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

“I want to keep him safe.”

He saw the other man move and he could have stopped him, but Renard let the anger wash over him, let the blutbad slam him against the wall, clawed fingers threatening to tear into his clothes.

“By seducing him into your bed?!”

“No. By openly showing everyone he is protected. By a regnant. This regnant.”

Monroe snarled and pushed away, pacing away.

“Monroe, he is yours alone. He loves you,” Renard said softly. “My feelings for him are intense but different.”

The red eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I love him,” Renard confessed openly. “Because he is my soulbound.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to sleep with him!”

“I never said anything about sex, Monroe.”

“You’re implying it. That’s enough.”

Renard watched the agitated man, making no aggressive move. “I won’t sleep with him.”

“But you’d mark him.”

“Yes.”

Monroe was silent, the anger still there, tightly controlled. He was rumbling to himself.

“You can’t guarantee his safety even with an open mark, Renard. It might make him even more of a target.”

“Like a claim mark of a blutbad male?”

This time Monroe didn’t attack, had himself leashed, just glaring at the regnant with an expression that promised death if he continued down that path.

“He is yours,” Renard repeated. “I only want to protect him.”

The tension didn’t break. Monroe grabbed another beer and drank half of it in one big gulp.

“From what? Who threatened him outside the usual?”

Ah, very perceptive. Renard had never made the mistake to think that the other man was simple and easily overthrown.

“You know about reapers.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“I made sure Nick is safe within the boundaries of my territory. They didn’t take that too well. I received a… note. And a call.”

Monroe’s face looked close to shifting.

“They want Nick under control or dead,” Renard said bluntly.

A growl escaped the blutbad’s lips. “They won’t get him!”

“No, they won’t.”

“And you won’t ever control him!”

“No, I won’t. Nick can’t ever be controlled. Grimm’s have no master, Monroe. I won’t claim to be one either. But I can make sure that the reapers won’t pose a problem to him, give them the idea that I did as they proposed, and with it give Nick the edge.”

Monroe was baring sharper teeth, the red in his eyes intensifying.

“How?” he finally asked.

Renard blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected the sudden change of mind.

“How?” Monroe repeated, a bit more sharply.

“Exchanging soul energy,” the other man answered slowly. “The fire within, if you want. He would become part of me as I take his life energy, I will be forever part of him as he absorbs part of me.”

The blutbad stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and horror and fear.

“Our lives would be forever together,” Renard went on, brutally honest with the one man in his counterpart’s life who was also important to the regnant. Without Monroe, Nick would be less. He knew it. “My fire is his, his is mine. And to an extent, the bond becomes part of you as well.”

Monroe opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. He shook his head and turned abruptly, pacing across the length of the room. He stopped, stared at the wall, then whirled around and glared at the regnant.

“Does he know what this means for real?!” he snapped.

Apparently Monroe did. Renard was pleasantly surprised. He had thought he would need to spell it out.

“I don’t know.”

Silence.

“Do you?” Renard pressed.

It got him a snort. “Fairy tales and legends. Grandmamma liked to embellish, or so we all thought. She didn’t mention a third party.” His brows lowered as the dark eyes narrowed. “ How can this involve me?”

“You mated with him; your bond, while not the same as mine, is just as strong. I believe it would be pulled into the mix as well.”

Monroe was silent again, digesting this. “Tell him,” he finally said quietly, all the aggression bottled up, under the lid, under control. “I want Nick safe. Always. Neither of us can guarantee it. This… this would make him a lot safer.”

“But he will have a price to pay.”

“It’s his decision.”

“And you would accept it?”

The blutbad nodded slowly. “I’m not his keeper. Neither are you. We both accept his decisions.” The expression was firm now, the brown eyes hard. “It’s his life. We only share it.”

Renard was surprised for a second, then a slow smile crept over his features. Nick was the leader in their triangle relationship. Neither of the two powerful creatures could control him, could force him into anything, and both never would.

He gave Monroe a nod, promising silently to talk to their Grimm, to explain it all.

And then it was up to Nick.

 

tbc...


	21. Chapter 21

Nick had sought out the quiet, familiar surroundings of Marie’s trailer. It was dark outside, the noise of the cars passing by muted and far away. He had only switched on a single light as he sat on the bed. A long time ago he had stripped the sheets off and washed them, then stowed it all underneath the bed in the compartment meant for these purposes.

No one was going to sleep here, unless Nick needed to be alone for a night or two.

So far he hadn’t.

He still ached from his latest creature-related encounter, his hand swathed in bandages, the cuts stitched and treated with antibiotic cream. His back was a mass of bruises, but the coat had mostly protected him from the geier claws.

Monroe had nearly gone ballistic, the wolf pushing to the forefront for an insane second, then Nick had calmed him down and told him he was okay. Smelling of medication and blood, but okay.

Not that it meant he was also unhurt or not in pain.

Monroe had spent the night curled around him, nuzzling against his neck, a large, warm weight against the tired Grimm. Nick appreciated it, felt safer, better, because of it.

Simple comfort with a huge, emotional effect for both of them.

Monroe had returned from his business yesterday, a trip he had been willing to postpone because of the latest events. Nick had told him in no uncertain terms that he had to go, that he was very well able to take care of himself, and that he wasn’t alone.

Bringing up Renard had been a cheap shot, but Monroe had been strangely… compliant. He hadn’t even reacted to mentioning the third party in this weird triangle, had simply looked surprised at himself for not thinking of it, and then he had driven off.

Would wonders never cease?

Now he was back, happy as a clam because he had a boatload of clocks to work on for very good money, and Nick had gone to the trailer.

Nick had carried a netbook along. Currently he was going through the file Marie had made of the regnants, especially a part he hadn’t shown to Monroe. It was something he had only lately discovered after browsing the pages upon pages, clicking every file and looking at what the contents was.

This had been hidden within another file.

And it had left him kind of numb.

At the edge of his perception there was Sean. Renard. The regnant. A gentle presence, never oppressive, simply there and reassuring. A weight he no longer noticed, a part of him that had been meant to be.

But there was one thing that hadn’t happened so far and he wondered if Renard knew, if he was waiting for Nick to find out, if he actually wanted it…

Remembering the little game he had played, projecting his and Monroe’s passion at the other soul he was bound to, the way Renard had reacted…

Shit.

He had been close so many times, but he had never gone through with it.

Nick knew the pros and cons. If Renard openly bound Nick to him for every creature to smell or see or feel, the presence and existence of this particular regnant might be revealed. Nick would become even more of a target than he already was. The seth had already known and others might, too.

Nick would become protected to a degree, while also painting just another target onto his back. This time he would be the perfect kidnapping victim.

Leaning against the wall, the Grimm read over the words again.

He was soulbound to the other man. He would never be able to sever the link and he didn’t want to anyway. He had fought too hard to make this work, to balance two very different relationships, and Nick wasn’t sure what it would do to Monroe if he let the regnant place a mark on the Grimm.

And the question was: would Renard even want to reveal his presence like that? What would be the repercussions and consequences?

* * *

Renard had known about the trailer the moment Nick had hidden it, but he had never come there. He let his counterpart believe it was still a secret, and so he waited for Nick to come back from another long night reading journals and books and determining what was what at the treasure trove this little silver box on wheels was.

A week had passed since his talk with Monroe. He had needed the time to make up his mind about how to talk to his counterpart, how to handle the matter of such an intimate proposal, and to make sure no reapers were anywhere in his territory. There had been two and they had paid for their breach immediately.

He didn’t tolerate fools lightly.

Nick parked the car and got out, frowning when he discovered the man sitting on his porch and waiting.

“Something happen?” he asked, already tense and ready to go if anything truly had happened.

“No. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I have a cell, you know. You could have called.”

Renard smiled. “It wasn’t that important to tear you away from your reading.”

Nick froze, eyes narrowing. Renard kept his easy posture, smiling disarmingly.

“How long have you known?” the Grimm demanded.

“Does it matter?”

Nick stared at him for a hard, long second, then opened the door to his house.

“I would never compromise you, Nick.”

“I know. It’s just…” He shook his head.

“I understand. It’s why I didn’t come to you there. I waited for your return.”

Nick shrugged out of his jacket and stripped off his gun, going through his routine of storing the weapon and hanging up his clothes.

“Why are you here, Sean?”

Renard had to suppress the next smile that wanted to come because of the first name basis. It was so normal, so wonderful, so familiar.

“There is something you might not know about my kind, Nick. Something I want to explain.”

Nick watched him with wary eyes, then gestured at the couch for them to sit down.

Renard did and accepted bottled water from his companion-counterpart. Then he explained.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Hoping that Nick would understand.

 

tbc...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I caught some very bad, personally insulting comments somewhere else that totally threw me. My brain flatlined and I wondered if I really wanted to continue this story. I had never gotten such emotionally negative reponses in all my writing years. I had truly triggered and hit some nerves. 
> 
> Since the comments didn't come from this site, I've finally unearthed my spirit and resurrected the muse from the catatonic state she was on. I'm going to write the story to the end.

Nick looked into the green eyes, saw a glimmer of orange, and he knew how close to the surface the inner creature was. Renard watched him with a mixture of hunger and need, coupled with caution and respect, and there was the love he had come to realize ran soul-deep. Different from Monroe, so very different from what he was used to. 

“Would you really want to risk it?” the Grimm asked.

“Yes.”

So plain and simple. So final. Nick shook his head. He had been surprised that Renard had approached him so openly, had told him everything about himself, about his most inner needs and desires, and what he was capable of.

If Marie’s notes were correct, it would get even more intense before the night was over.

“You’ve been working behind the scenes, never showing anyone who you are, and suddenly you want to drop all pretense? Because of me?”

“I’m not going to step up and usurp someone’s throne in public, Nick,” Renard replied with a smile. He had gotten up throughout the explanation, putting a distance between them. “Knowing you’re bound to a regnant won’t tell anyone who the regnant is. Some might not even realize the mark means there is one of my kind around. Word has already spread and the creature community knows Portland is a regnant’s territory.”

“It endangers you, Sean.”

“No more than before. They wouldn’t dare to openly attack me.”

“No, they would go through me.”

“Not if they know what’s good for them.” Now the glimmer was a glow.

Nick got up and closed the distance between them. He felt the tension, the hum of power and restrained iron will. He met the intense eyes.

“Nick…”

“Please tell me you’re not sacrificing your anonymity for me,” he said softly. “I can take care of myself. It’s not necessary.”

It wasn’t necessary for Nick, but maybe it was what Renard needed. Then there was Monroe…

“This isn’t about me either,” was the low reply, coupled with a growl from deep within. “It concerns us. All three of us.”

Nick’s brows rose. “You two talked?”

And why should he be surprised? He was the new guy in this. The two creatures had simply dealt with it the way the community did, apparently.

“Yes.”

“And?”

Renard chuckled and leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his temple to his ear. “He said not to expect him to join a threesome.”

Nick drew back abruptly, eyes wide. Renard laughed, caressing the pale skin.

“His words, not mine. I think you can also expect him to renew his claim on you.”

Nick shivered at the words. “So you still want this? Expose yourself?”

“I’m not exposing myself. I want you safer, Nick. I can do that.”

The orange color in the green eyes was back.

“By giving me a part of you? For real?”

“Yes.”

“Sean…”

“Please, Nick.”

The man looked almost desperate, so completely unlike the normally very in-control captain. The need was unmistakable.

“You really want this,” the Grimm murmured.

The regnant nodded. “Our energies would be forever interwoven. It's a life cycle, streams running through each of you, looping back again and again. There's no beginning, no end. Just life. My life for you, your life for me."

Nick gazed at him, aware of so much, getting a confirmation on what the files had already told him. There was an openness to Renard he had never felt before, a baring of mind and soul.

“And Monroe would be part of it?”

This long life, bound together, never alone. To be with the one he loved and the one he protected. Complementary parts.

“I don’t know, but very possible. Those few of us who were lucky to find their Grimm counterpart and bond never had a mate to consider, let alone a blutbad mate. Your closeness is unique already.”

“I would know everything about you.”

“Yes. So would I about you.”

“And possibly Monroe.”

Renard nodded again. Nick closed his eyes and let his head fall forward against the taller man’s shoulder, Renard’s arms closing around him in a supportive hug.

“Marie had a few notes on this,” Nick murmured.

“On the soul fire exchange?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I wondered if you would ever mention it.”

Renard rested his chin on the dark head. “Now I did.”

“But you wouldn’t have on your own.”

“Probably not.”

“Why?”

“Because it means more than what we have. More than what you and Monroe have. It would change everything for him, for you....”

The young Grimm was silent.

“And I agree to it,” Nick finally said, lifting his head to look at the other man.

Renard’s eyes widened with surprise, actually close to shock. Nick almost smiled at that. 

“And yes, I’m sure,” he added.

“About your life with me?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that it would be longer than a human life, Nick?”

“Yes.”

“And it would mean a change one day, when things would be too… difficult to hide.”

Nick tilted his head a little. “I think you and Monroe would have the biggest problems, right? Being so territorial.”

“Territories can change.”

“My decision won’t.”

“Nick…”

“Sean, this is us. Both of us. I’m your counterpart and a Grimm and a cop and a blutbad’s mate. I’m a lot and I have a lot of responsibilities. Especially to Monroe and to you.” The gray eyes were intense. “I didn’t understand what being a Grimm meant, but I grew into it. The same goes for mating with a blutbad. Or becoming a regnant’s companion-counterpart. I will do this because it’s important for all three of us. Just… accept it.”

Renard looked at him, a stunned expression on his face. 

Nick felt something between them rise, like a tidal wave that would swallow him and sweep him away.

He didn’t fight it.

He let it roll over him and take him down, grab him and tear him out of the known world he knew.

‘Trust me.’

Out of his mind.

‘I’ve got you.’

His soul.

And then there was nothing but him and Sean and the memories of two lives that would no longer be separate.

* * *

He had known that should Nick agree to this, and knowing Nick he would, it might backlash on him. At least the regnant had mentioned that the mate bond might become more than a blutbad’s way of marking a partner. It was an emotional connection, strong and unbreakable, since blutbaden were monogamous.

Monroe had thought about that a lot. 

For a week.

And he had realized that Nick would do this and he, Monroe, had already accepted it. Renard was no threat as a mate. He would never be. And if this soulfire exchange truly went as the other man thought it would, Monroe would become privy to a lot of stuff he might never have known otherwise.

About Nick.

About Renard.

Maybe even about himself.

 

So when it happened, he was almost prepared.

It was just too bad he was in the middle of a clock repair job.

* * *

A soft, warm breeze was blowing through the small garden. The trees moved with it, a rustle of leaves the only sound disturbing the quiet scene. It was a moonless night, with only the stars out, and no clouds crossed the sky. The night of the new moon.

He woke in his bed, wrapped in a familiar embrace, feeling warmth along his back and side, ensconced in the arms of a man taller than him. The warmth wasn’t just physical but also in his mind, and memories lapped at his consciousness.

Not all his own.

Knowledge of another life. Knowledge of Sean Renard.

Nick simply lay there, taking stock of himself, of his mind, his body… actually his very being.

There was something, at the edge of his perception, the firm knowledge that Sean was sleeping, unharmed as well, feeling safe enough to let his guard down. He had the other man’s life in his head, knowing it all in every detail, and it was so incredibly amazing and frightening in one.

Especially since it mixed with knowledge of another kind.

Monroe. All of him, suddenly known to Nick, his life and his memories of that life.

Nick inhaled sharply, tensing, and the arms around him tightened a little. Sean murmured soft, reassuring words as he buried his face against Nick’s neck.

He knew everything now. From Renard’s birth to his childhood in Europe to his move to America to today.

And Nick knew about the threat of the reapers, what the regnant had already done to keep him safe, what had finally driven him into cementing this bond.

“Nick?”

He exhaled softly. “This was a lot more than I expected.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sean didn’t feel sorry. Actually, he felt pleased as punch and very comfortable. Nick wriggled a little and the arms loosened, and he turned in the slightly possessive embrace. He met the green eyes, reading a lot in there.

And for the first time he noticed they were still very much dressed.

Renard chuckled as he picked up on his train of thought. “This wasn’t about sex, Nick. It never was.”

The Grimm glared at him because through the still very open connection between them he knew that if it had come to that, Renard wouldn’t have pushed him away.

The taller man lithely moved on top, straddling Nick without crowding down on him. “You know I love you.”

Nick’s expression was calm, far from panicky, though the wide gray eyes gave him a look of pure innocence. “And I’m in love with Monroe.”

“Changing the dynamics would destroy us.”

Nick placed his palm flat against Renard’s chest, feeling the soul energy. It was a living thing between them, beautiful and pure and wonderful.

Sean leaned down, eyes intense. “I’ll always be there.”

The warmth inside Nick rose, was all-encompassing, was wonderful and so real, like the intimate contact between them, only more so. Nothing could be closer than the shards of their most inner selves they had exchanged.

Renard released him, gazed down at him with a mixture of want and need and love, then smiled serenely. A sensation rushed through Nick, one of reverence and respect and love. This was what the other man felt for him.

Reverence.

Never as deep as lovers or mates, but soulbound counterparts. Soulfire bound. 

It was love. Just different. Platonic but incredibly deep. It was an emotion he couldn’t put into words, that was there and could never be experienced by anyone outside this unique bond between a Grimm and a regnant.

“My affection for you runs deep, Nick. It has from the beginning. I would never jeopardize that.”

Renard got up from the bed and Nick watched him walk into the bathroom. He felt so very much at peace, it should be scary, but it wasn’t. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him, aside from Monroe.

Those memories teased him, made him turn to that place in his head and study what had been given to him.

“How much does he know about what happened?”

Renard’s answer was a calm, “Everything,” as he walked back out of the en-suite.

“About you as well?”

“Yes.”

Nick’s eyes widened as he realized what that meant. Renard had voluntarily opened himself to an outsider; an immense amount of trust and faith on his part.

“He’s your mate, Nick. You are my counterpart.”

And that was it. That was all the explanation that was needed.

Nick sifted through the memories, hunting for those that had surprised and shocked him. Not the violent images of his aunt, of Adalind’s orders to kill her. Not about Renard’s past encounters with various creatures in Europe.

No.

The one with the reaper.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Nick murmured.

A large, warm hand slid over one shoulder, squeezing it. “I had,” Sean simply said. “For your protection. And to make a point. He came into my territory to hunt a Grimm. Even without my… interest in you as my counterpart it would have been a serious breach of the rules.”

Nick looked at him, gray eyes wide and filled with emotions. “They will get back for it.”

The ear in the wooden box. The call. The threat.

“They can’t. I did what they asked for.” A wicked grin flitted over the regnant’s features, the creature briefly slipping through. The fierce expression was almost terrifying. “You’re not out of control, Nick. You’re not upsetting the balance.”

Renard pushed him back onto the mattress, leaning over him and suddenly there were wings, large and leathery and fascinating. His whole form was shifting, not fully a regnant yet, but halfway there.

“In their eyes you’re a rogue. In their eyes you should be dead. They want full control or the elimination of what their old world order minds can’t understand.” 

Nick looked at him in fascination and appreciation. The thrill was answered and both were very much aware of what they experienced and what the other was simply reflecting.

“You’re mine, Grimm. This city is mine,” the regnant growled. “They have no jurisdiction. As my counterpart they wouldn’t dare attack you. Or your mate. Their trespassing would have dire consequences for their whole kind.”

Nick was silent, aware of so many thoughts, of so much knowledge in his head that was still assimilating into his own mind.

“You marked me and… and Monroe. For protection. To give them what they want without doing it, actually.”

The grin widened and fangs showed. Long and sharp, easily able to rip out his throat.

“You’re playing them.”

“They’re fools to believe that such threats work on me.”

Nick shook his head, a smile slipping through despite his efforts. “You’re good, Sean. Terribly good.”

“Oh, you have no ideat.”

“Actually, now I do.”

Then Renard had himself back under control. He bowed his head, resting his forehead against Nick’s chest, and the younger man automatically ran light fingertips over the strong neck. Calm patterns, easy caresses, sliding into the short hair and scratching blunt nails over the skin.

“Yes,” Sean murmured. “You do.” He huffed a little laugh.

The shields would settle in time, most likely when both men were used to this soulfire exchange. Right now the openness allowed them to be completely honest and unguarded. Renard’s thoughts and desires to keep his Grimm safe were everywhere around Nick.

Renard gave him a brief smile and suddenly got up again, lithe and fluid and very much at ease.

“Call your mate,” he suggested. “And if he can stand it, breakfast is on me.”

Nick chuckled, feeling amusement war with confusion at how his life had taken such a sharp turn and gone down a road that hadn’t even been on the map.

Hell, the map hadn’t even existed!

But he was travelling it now and he didn’t feel anxious or scared. 

In a way it was like back when he had first seen creatures instead of human faces. He had accepted being a Grimm a lot faster than he would have thought; his heritage made it easier for his brain to wrap around the facts.

Now he was a counterpart to a regnant and the whole emotionally intense situation had only slightly unbalanced him. Now it was… just something to get used to. Like driving a new car. After a few hundred miles it felt like he had never had another one.

Nick reached for his cell as he sat up. The text message he pulled out of his files had him smile a little while worry mixed with relief.

Monroe knew what had happened. He had been home when the flood had brought him down.

‘A little warning next time, dude! You owe me a two hundred year old cuckoo clock!’

Nick smiled at that and hit his speed dial. “Sorry,” he said when Monroe answered.

“You better be,” came the slightly annoyed reply. “I mean I knew something like this could happen and Renard did talk to me, but this was a bit much, you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh yes, you will.”

He would. Nick felt a shiver of excitement.

“You okay?” Monroe asked, sounding worried.

“Perfectly, yes. He didn’t maul me or anything.”

A rumble answered that statement. 

“Monroe, really, I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.”

And he had every plan to thank Monroe for all he had done, all he had been willing to do, and for putting up with the weirdness of a Grimm mate who was bonded to a regnant as his counterpart.

“Nick?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Nick felt warmth blossom inside him. “I love you, too.”

Very much. Exclusively. Whatever else happened, whatever might change, it was a fact.

“Go see your mate,” Renard murmured into Nick’s ear, a silent, shadowy presence that had come up behind him.

Nick had felt him in a way, but he hadn’t turned around.

“I will. What about the reapers?”

“I did what they asked,” was the amused reply. “You’re not alone, Nick. You never were.” 

He nodded, unable to really understand it all fully yet.

Time would tell what others might be able to see of this protection mark.

*

They left the house together, Nick to drive over to Monroe’s and Renard heading into work. Their shields were firmly in place, the soulbond humming reassuringly.

 

tbc...


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for their kind words. They picked me up again. Here's a little chapter for you to read. :)

Monroe was at Nick’s house and when the Grimm walked in the door, the brown eyes fixed on him with an intensity just short of shifting into red.

“Hey,” Nick said softly.

Nostrils flared, the blutbad scenting his mate.

They looked at one another and Nick felt a wave of uncertainty. He hadn’t done anything to betray the trust Monroe had in him and he never would. Renard wasn’t competition.

“I didn’t think I’d get the whole thing,” Monroe finally broke the silence between them. “Was a bit much, dude.”

Nick was silent. 

“Can’t say it’s the movie of my choice, but it beats what’s in theatres everywhere.”

The young Grimm chuckled. “Probably.”

Monroe approached him, steps measured, his lines filled with tension. “This is one heck of a complicated triangle now.”

“Yeah.”

“I know him now.”

A nod.

“And all of you.”

Another nod.

Monroe knew everything now. Every tiny detail, everything that was Nick, that was Renard, that was the counterpart bond.

“And you know everything about me,” the blutbad added, voice soft.

Nick met the shadowed eyes openly. He had seen the bloodshed and the violence, remembered the hunger and the lust for more, had been there as Monroe remembered it, tearing his victims apart. It was… his mate.

He slipped his arms around the taller man’s waist, pulling them together. It was different from the contact with Renard. This was the man he loved. He wasn’t his counterpart. He was so much more. They might not share parts of their soul, but that didn’t matter to Nick. He kissed Monroe, soft and gentle, deepening the contact, nipping at the slightly chapped lips. Monroe opened up, letting him in.

Broad hands roamed over Nick’s back, under his sweater, met warm skin. A wave of arousal hit the younger man and he felt a reaction from Monroe that told him that the blutbad wanted him.

Badly.

Now.

His tongue encountered growing fangs and he groaned as his own lust shot through him like lightning.

“Bed,” he managed as he tore away from the hungry kiss. “Now!”

 

Monroe lazily ran clawed fingers over the hot, slick skin of his exhausted partner. Nick's breathing had evened out, but he was completely limp, moaning softly as those exploring fingers stroked over him.

They had barely made it to the room before Monroe had been all over the Grimm, demanding and getting entrance to his mouth, kissing him possessively, taking and needing what he got. Their lovemaking had been almost frantic and Monroe had felt it like a fever, sweeping over him and making his blood boil. Nick's soft, encouraging noises had been his undoing.

The night had been spent loving his mate. Nick was a picture of satisfaction and bliss, bearing several marks of Monroe's passion. Now he turned and snuggled closer to the blutbad, who readily drew him as close as possible. One of the Grimm's legs slipped between Monroe's and he bit his lower lip.

Damn, if that wasn't intentional!

Sparkling, gray eyes from under heavy lids met his red ones. The leg moved lightly, the knee coming in contact with a very sensitive spot.

"Bastard," Monroe whispered without malice.

His hand slid down the smooth back to the shapely behind and Nick winced. He would be rather sore for today. Monroe ran a teasing finger over the still slick butt and Nick writhed a little.

"Bastard," he breathed, eyes alight.

Monroe kissed him, inviting Nick back into his mouth, and the two men kissed leisurely.

"Don't want to get up," the younger man murmured against the nips and licks of his lover.

"Who says you have to?" Monroe nibbled a path down the smooth throat and neck, coming across his quite obvious mark from last night.

Nick closed his eyes. "Do you intend this to go somewhere?" was the breathy question.

"Oh yeah…"

The human squirmed, then cried out softly as nimble fingers found his awakening arousal.

"If we finish this…" he gasped, "I won't be able to leave the bed for a week…"

"Good," Monroe murmured around a mouthful of nipple.

"Monroe…!" 

It was a choked off moan as the blutbad continued his ministrations, tenderly arousing his mate.

Not leaving the room, this bed, for a long time to come was actually a good idea, Monroe mused as he approached his goal. A very good idea.

And then his lips closed over his mate's arousal.

* * *

Adalind Schade regarded her regnant with calculating eyes, listening to the few words of explanation with an otherwise neutral expression. She nodded when Renard had finished as if she had never expected anything else.

“This changes everything,” she remarked.

“It changes nothing. This is my territory, my protectorate.”

“The ferat won’t like it.”

He gave her a cold look. “I don’t care what they want or think. The reapers have no jurisdiction here and they would do well to remember it. Threates don#t work and they already paid for their foolishness.”

Adalind’s lips became thin lines. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sir.”

“I’m done playing. Nick Burckhardt is my companion-counterpart, bound to me, protected by me, and so is his mate. He is neither a rogue nor a killer.”

“But he is a Grimm.”

“He is a Grimm,” the regnant agreed with a dark smile. “As a Grimm he is the arbitrator of the creature world, not a homicidal maniac. He is mine. If the ferat dare to upset the balance, they will pay.”

Adalind nodded slowly. She glanced at her two sisters, waiting a few feet away, keeping an eye on the area just in case. She bowed her head once and left, joining the two other hexenbiester, and Renard watched them walk away to their cars. 

He smiled to himself.

Life would never be boring, not with his Grimm counterpart. The dynamics between them, the three of them, wouldn’t change. He knew where he stood, as did Monroe. There was no rivalry for Nick’s love and affection because they shared him in different ways.

No, it wouldn’t be boring, whatever the future had in store for them. 

As for the reapers, they weren’t a problem right now. And if one of them returned again, Renard would deal with him.

This was his protectorate. 

His Grimm.

And he would go all the way to make sure everyone was safe.

 

tbc...


	24. Chapter 24

“So.”

Nick stopped toweling his hair, looking at his partner with an expectant expression. Half dressed, wearing only sweat pants, his hair sticking on end, Monroe found he looked amusingly adorable.

“So?” the Grimm asked.

Distracted by so much naked, pale skin, the blutbad to rein in his braincells. Especially looking at the claim mark, renewed and brightly visible against the shoulder.

“So how much of this did he see again?” the blutbad asked.

Nick blinked. “Huh?”

“That little sharing session you and Renard had? It gave me a good idea what you can do in relation to this connection,” Monroe went on. “You got experimental. We had a threesome and I didn’t even know about it?”

Nick walked over to him and sat down next to the taller man on the bed. “I didn’t have sex with him, Monroe. And it wasn’t a threesome. It was a stupid experiment that backfired.”

“That much I got.”

Because Nick had lowered his shields to blindside the regnant and in the end the whole emotional wave had turned into something neither had expected.

“I know why you did it, too,” Monroe added carefully.

Because Renard had used the growing connection to read Nick and his little Grimm had grown annoyed at his lack of control in that regard. So he had pushed intense emotions Renard’s way. Intense, sexually motivated ones. And the regnant had been overwhelmed, unable to pull out.

They hadn’t slept together.

Monroe was a little confused and somehow jealousy wasn’t an issue. It was simply… unexpected.

“My shields are good now,” Nick said, looking earnestly at him. “And after this fiasco I’m not going to go there again.”

“Good.” 

He interlaced their fingers, pulling Nick close. The other man smelled of body soap, mixed with the unmistakable scent that was Nick, and his damp hair and warm skin were intoxicating. 

The kiss was gentle, not at all arousing, without even a hint of fangs. 

“I love you,” Nick whispered.

And he was his mate. The only person in this world who knew everything about Monroe, every little dark detail. Well, Nick and with him Renard. But Nick was his alone, his Grimm, his mate.

Monroe buried his head against Nick’s neck, scenting him, aware of so much going through him, such intense emotions, and acceptance. Complete acceptance of what had happened in the past. 

“Mine,” he murmured.

“Yours.”

And that was all that was needed.

* * *

Work was work. Renard had never treated Nick differently, nor had he shown any, even tiny, hint that they were closer than superior and subordinate. The balance was well and good and always there. Nick felt the evenness of Sean’s presence, his cool and calmness, even throughout harrying cases. The regnant was reassured of his counterpart’s health and safety because of the connection and no closer contact was necessary.

The ability to kind of communicate with emotions throughout their bond was rarely, if ever, used. Nick found it distracting because he wanted to react to it verbally, which would have confused anyone else around, and Renard wasn’t a bastard to use it to tease and taunt him. After just a few days the intense sensations had lessened and only spikes made it through. Mostly it was annoyance and exasperation from Renard’s side, and anger and frustration from Nick.

Work-related, normal emotions.

Clari noticed the change. Not every creature was sensitive to the new source of power the Grimm carried within him, but some did a double take and actually looked more cowed than aggressive.

Clari handed Nick his coffee, her dark eyes wide and intense. Nick said nothing, just waited, careful not to scare the hare creature. As brave as she had been while both of them had been victims of a store hold-up, she was still a hare and hares scared easily.

“I had heard about Portland’s status as a regnant’s territory,” she finally said, voice soft. “I just didn’t think… well, it’s like a myth and a fairy tale and lots of rumors.” She smiled shyly. “But it’s true?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him again. “You met him.”

“Yes.”

“You have changed, detective. For the better.” Clari smiled at him, warm and friendly.

“Thanks. I think.” Nick put the coffee money on the counter. 

She rolled her eyes. The Grimm still refused to accept a gift from her. 

“You’re hopeless, detective,” she said mildly.

Nick grinned and left the shop, nodding at the man who had just entered. A creature. Mausherz, if he interpreted the quick flash of creature features. The man stared at him in shock, then scurried over to the counter where Clari would sort things out. She was very helpful in that regard, even if she refused to accept payment for the occasional coffee.

* * *

Nick hadn’t taken the outcome of the spinnetod murders all that well. Looking at the woman who had had no choice but to follow a biological imperative, it was way too close to home. 

Sean had followed the same imperative when he had claimed the Grimm as his counterpart. And in a way Nick had reacted to the creature in Renard because of how compatible they were.

Monroe had simply given him that ‘What are you going on about?’ look and handed him a second beer. Then he had gone into explaining creatures and instincts and the inevitability of some things to the Grimm.  
Nick had hated to know how driven some creatures were, how they had to stick to their behavioral pattern because of their nature.

“Not all,” Monroe had argued, looking a bit hurt.

Nick had smiled, knowing fully well that his partner had broken that vicious circle. As had Charlotte, but she was still tempted and her control could snap if she let it. And there was the fact that the effects of her restraint were looking her in the face whenever she looked into a mirror. 

Well, not that Monroe couldn’t become a vicious beast and go after girls in red, but he didn’t do it to look young and beautiful. Lena had fought herself, her nature, but she had given in because she had looked into the eyes of the creature and seen her sickness.

It was sobering.

It was painful.

It was what a Grimm had to deal with.

Then there was Sally. She was going down the same road and leaving her with her grandmother, who was also a spider creature, hadn’t sat well with Nick. Not that there was anything else to do. Spiders were spiders; you couldn’t change them. She either killed her mates and stayed young and beautiful, or she was young and looked ancient.

Monroe had given him the distance Nick needed, hadn’t pressed on, but Renard wasn’t so lenient. The regnant was there, right next to him, as Nick tried to be alone and deal with it all.

Renard wouldn’t let him.

“You won’t ever be alone.”

Yeah, well, right now the connection sucked. 

“Deal with it,” came the wry response as the other man caught those fragments.

“What happens to her now?” Nick asked aloud.

“She’ll go to jail for murder.”

“And her husband?”

“Accomplice. Accessory. Something like that.”

“They have a daughter.”

Renard looked at him, then smiled briefly. “You can’t save them all, Nick. She committed murder. She’s a serial killer.”

“Who might end up in the psych ward.”

“Most likely.”

“And her daughter? She’ll go through the same process.”

“It’s their lives, Nick. Spiders. We creatures can’t be anyone but who we were born.”

“Monroe conquered his wolf side.”

“No, he leashed it. You helped him tame it. Like you control me.”

“I don’t,” Nick muttered, hating to be reminded just how much the regnant really depended on him, how much Nick could hurt this powerful creature if he only wanted to.

Sean smiled briefly. He wasn’t any closer to Nick than before, wasn’t touching him, wasn’t crowding him. It showed how stable their bond was and how much in control of his nether instincts the regnant had become.

“You have saved a lot of lives, humans and creatures. You brought back lost children or saved the lost from themselves and their darker sides. Lena is a spinnetod. A black widow. She is special, yes, because she never killed her partner, but in the end she committed a crime. She killed all those men, Nick. Neither you nor I can overlook that. Her daughter has to pick her own way in life.”

“So I might meet her again in the worst possible way.”

“Yes.”

Nick growled a curse.

“It’s a Grimm’s life.”

“Well, it sucks,” he stated flatly.

The calming waves of the soul energy between them touched Nick, pushed against the anger and pain. 

“Life is not fair,” the regnant murmured in response to the emotional wave he was privy to.

“I know.”

“And still you want to change the course of the world?”

Nick growled. He didn’t move, but he projected a ‘fuck you’ that had the regnant chuckle.

“The world is already changing,” he finally snapped and stepped back, glaring at his captain and counterpart. “Because I refuse to be the creature world boogeyman!”

Renard reached out and caressed one pale cheek. “You’re not. You never were.” He drew closer to Nick, their contact sensual and gentle. “But the world needs time to adjust to this. To you. And sometimes, like this time, things can’t be changed, good intentions or not. You didn’t kill her or her husband. Nor did you kill the child.”

Nick’s disgust was overwhelming. He knew of the other Grimms, of his family line, of his gruesome heritage. Wherever he went, creatures first looked at him in abject fear and terror.

“You’re the good guy, Nick. But you can’t let her go. She killed. She will be tried.”

“And end up in a psychiatric ward.”

Renard’s touch was distracting, the warmth and understanding leeching the anger away. The regnant smiled and hugged him briefly. It was something they both needed and their souls resonated with the echoes. 

Nick finally nodded. He got some distance between them, squaring his shoulders.

“I’m okay.”

“Liar.”

He smirked, then walked away. Monroe would be all over him, too. At home. Probably worrying and snarking and telling him the very same things Renard had. Just in his own, very direct way.

“And he’s right”

“Stop spying!”

There was no anger there. It was just a scolding. Renard’s presence retreated behind their habitual shields, but the amusement Nick had felt emanating from the regnant lingered.

He smiled to himself.

Nick gave him a dirty look, then left the room to return to his desk. Reports to write, cases to close.

*

Monroe looked at the caller ID and rolled his eyes. 

“What is it this time?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed but failing. “How many pieces do I have to pick up?”

“No more than the usual,” Renard’s deep voice told him calmly. “You know about the black widow?”

“Yeah?”

“Nick’s taking it pretty hard.”

“I figured. He was worked up already. So…?”

“I did what I could. He’s not in a dark mood, but he might be snarky and snapping.”

“Ah. The usual,” Monroe nodded to himself. “I can deal with that.”

“I knew you would.”

Not like he really needed a heads-up with his little Grimm when Nick was dealing with creature-related emotional floods, but it helped to know he wasn’t alone in watching out for him.

Renard had hung up and the blutbad slipped the cell phone back into a pocket, then went into the kitchen. Dinner might have to wait. Or they could order something. 

 

Delivery it was an hour after Nick had come home, working off the negative emotions, dealing with the fall-out in his very own way. Monroe had watched and listened to the angry rant for a while, then caught one wrist and pulled the unresisting man with him onto the couch.

“Life’s not fair,” he murmured.

It really wasn’t. Nick was trying his best to be a new kind of Grimm, the original kind of Grimm, not the bad guy. As he had told Charlotte: he was different. 

“Sally could be different,” Nick said into the silence. “Her grandmother knew Lena loved her mate, that she would never hurt him, but if Sally is confronted by the aging process, she might snap. That’s what drives them. Not the hunger to kill, just the need to stay young on the outside as well.”

Monroe nodded against the dark head. He had seen Charlotte. He had known the spinnetod when she was a breathtakingly beautiful woman. At least his own restraint to give in to his creature nature didn’t age him. A vegetarian lifestyle made him an outsider to his own people, but not an old man while he was twenty-six on the inside. 

“How old did her grandmother look?” he asked.

Nick stiffened a little.

Ah. Young, then.

“And Sally knows, right?”

“Yeah. She looked at me like some kind of mythical being. Her grandmother thanked me for not killing either of them, but I knew she saw death a better option to a life in prison, looking like seventy, craving to feed.”

“Nick…”

The younger man sat up, still not fully at ease but struggling to digest it all. “I know, I know. My job. Their lives. Their needs. I can’t change a creature. I wouldn’t be able to make you not like red or react to a girl in red. I wouldn’t be able to stop a regnant from being an overprotective mother-hen in his territory. Or sway a geier away from harvesting from the dying. It’s just… I didn’t grow up knowing this, Monroe. I’m still learning.”

“And those are harsh lessons, dude,” Monroe agreed.

“Yeah.”

It wouldn’t be easy. It hadn’t been so far and the more Nick understood and learned, the more difficult matters became. 

He couldn’t save them all, he knew.

He couldn’t change the world.

“What you do, what you’ve already done,” Monroe told him and pulled the unresisting man close again, “is so much more than any Grimm has ever done for us before. You’re not a monster; we’re not monsters.”

Nick relaxed against the taller form. 

“You can’t touch all their lives, but those you saved, like Holly and Clari and Bud and that jagerbar so many more that you spared, they’ll know about you, Nick Burckhardt. They can spread the word that not all Grimms are monsters.”

“Like not all blutbaden are vicious killers?”

Monroe chuckled. “Wieder-blutbaden are a reformed breed. I wouldn’t trust Angelina to follow that church. But I know what you mean.”

Nick wrapped his arms around Monroe’s middle and positioned his head on the broad chest. He closed his eyes, letting the tension leave his body.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Monroe smiled, carding gentle fingers through the longish, dark strands. “Love ya,” he said softly.

Nick mumbled something that was very close to ‘Love you too’, then his breathing evened out.

Monroe fumbled his cell out of a pocket, then quickly sent a text message to Renard, telling him Nick was fine, sleeping.

He got a reply telling him ‘thank you’.

Monroe made himself comfortable and Nick curled closer, burying into the blutbad’s flannel shirt. Monroe smiled, keeping up the gentle caresses.

* * *

Things got back to normal.

Well, as normal as Grimm life could be. Nick had his ‘creature cases’ and brought home the usual scrapes and bruises. Monroe tried not to fuss; he failed miserably. Renard tried not to hover when Nick was at work after such an incident; he failed just as miserably.

Nick simply rolled his eyes at them, told Renard to cut it out and let Monroe reassure himself that his mate was fine.

Life as usual.

Life as a Grimm, mate to a blutbad, companion-counterpart to the Portland regnant.

Not something any other Grimm had ever mentioned; not something any other Grimm might understand.

Nick Burckhardt was unique. Had always been. Monroe had known the younger man was special when he hadn’t killed him right away, when he had come back again and again, asking for his help. They had become friends and later so much more.

Renard had never doubted that his detective was special, but he had never thought it would come down to a companion bond. His weak spot, his Grimm, had become the most important person in his life, like he had been important in the lives of so many creatures already.

His position as regnant of Portland had strengthened. His standing had changed. 

Because of Nick.

The two creatures would do everything to protect their human bonded.

And Nick would do everything in his considerable power as a Grimm to protect those in need.


End file.
